b
by Laddie252
Summary: ffgg
1. Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The pirate ship was long and lean. A giant skull and crossbones had been painted flamboyantly across her nose.

She was anything but subtle.

"I don't like this," I said for at least the fifth time that day as I stood at the prince's port window, eyeing the bold monstrosity. The sun was falling low in the sky over the spaceport of Roland. It would be dark in an hour.

"We're too easy of a target. All they have to do is follow us."

"You worry too much, Captain Kelley."

I wasn't surprised at the response. We had, after all, been going in circles about this very subject all day. I turned to eye Rikard._Prince_ Rikard. He wasn't actually a prince, but it was the title he preferred. His father was a Regent of the Empire, easily one of the four most powerful men in the quadrant, and one of the richest. Rikard liked to make sure everybody knew it.

"What if they know you're on board?" I asked.

Rikard lounged against his dresser wearing nothing

but a thick fur robe. It gaped open, revealing the smooth, pale skin of his chest. His dark hair was artfully tousled, even though he hadn't bothered to leave the privacy of his room all day. He looked incredibly bored by the entire

conversation.

"How would they? Anyway, the longer we stay, the more likely they are to find out. Better to leave now, before they get word of us."

I sighed. Yes, that made sense. Maybe. But once we

left orbit, we'd be easy pickings. Our small ship had a few weapons on board, but nothing capable of fighting off a ship like theirs. We'd have only our lock code to protect us from their barbarism. Every instinct I possessed told me to stay in Roland until the pirates were long gone. "There's no reason we can't wait," I argued.

Rikard lit one of his expensive imported cigarettes and blew the thick blue smoke in my general direction. He always did that when I started to bore him. "I don't want to waste any more time on this backwater planet."

"You have all the time in the world. It doesn't matter if you reach Belhah next week or next month." This was, after all, nothing more than a whimsical pleasure-jaunt for him. Never mind that eight guardsmen, Captain Jerald, and I all had to leave our homes—and for a few, their families as well—to escort him on his way. Never mind that as captain of his guard, it was my duty to point these things out. "It's safer if we wait!"

Rikard rolled his eyes and blew another stream of

smoke. "Your objection is duly noted, Captain Kelley." He

turned away from me to tap ash into a glass bowl on his dresser. "Inform Captain Jerald that we'll leave at once."

I gritted my teeth, and clenched my fists, biting

back my protest. I knew when I was beaten. "Yes, sir."

I was halfway out the door when he called out,

"Trissy?"

The pet name had always annoyed me. I stopped,

but didn't turn to look at him. "Yes?"

"I expect you back here once we're underway."

Rikard's access to Regency resources didn't include spacecraft, and he'd been forced to hire an independent pilot for his trip. Jerald wasn't part of the Regency, or her militia. Technically, he had no authority over me or my men, but he'd made it clear since day one that he was captain of his own ship. He was less than pleased by Rikard's determination to leave.

"He's a gods damned fool!" Jerald swore. "Does he want to get us all captured?"

Jerald was at least fifteen years older than me. He was muscular and rough, scarred and cynical, and he made me feel inadequate in every way imaginable. We were roughly the same height at about two meters, but I'd always

been on the lean and lanky side. No matter how much time I spent in the gym, I'd never have his bulk. He made me feel small. "I tried to talk him out of it," I said, only because I wanted him to know I wasn't as much of a fool as our employer.

"If those bastards follow us, we're fucked," Jerald said. "Can't outrun them. Can't outfight them. No damn Regency Patrol in the blind space to protect us, either."

"I know."

"Nothing but the gods damned lock code between us and them, which ain't much comfort."

"I know," I said again. The lock code would keep the pirates from boarding the ship if we were captured, but as Jerald had said, it was small comfort. We'd still be at their mercy. They could blow the hatch doors and let the vacuum of space kill us all, then sell the ship for salvage.

Or they could simply wait us out. Once food and air started to become scarce on our tiny craft, somebody was bound to become desperate and open the door for them. Then the pirates could ransom us, or sell us to slavers, and do as they pleased with Jerald's ship.

Jerald sighed heavily. "Ain't sure this trip is worth it." He turned to the controls and began to punch buttons with a ruthless efficiency. "Getting paid double ain't worth much if I'm locked in some pirate cell or dragged off and

sold to a mine in the void."

His words surprised me. "You're being paid

double?" I asked, trying not to sound too shocked.

Jerald laughed. "'Course I am! Ain't you?"

Of course I wasn't. I'd asked Rikard for extra pay

for all of the guardsmen, but he'd sworn he couldn't afford it. _You know my stipend is small, Trissy_, he'd whined.

Complaining about how little of his father's money he actually had access to was one of his favorite pastimes.

_Anyway_, he'd said, _it's a vacation for everybody, once we_ _get there_!

That part was true, at least. Once we reached the

resort planet of Belhah, there'd be plenty to distract the men from their shallow pay. It was the reason so many of the younger guards had jumped at the chance to escort the prince while the older ones had opted to stay home. The Regencies controlled the quadrants and kept them relatively secure, but flying through the blind space between them was always risky. Whatever pleasures Belhah held,

certainly they could be found closer to home? As a result, most of my crew on this mission were depressingly young and inexperienced.

"I'll power up," Jerald said. "But I ain't pulling out

'til well after dark. With any luck, the damn pirates'll be offship boozing and whoring and won't notice us slip

away."

It seemed like as good a plan as any.

I avoided going back to Rikard's room for as long as I could. I found the men playing cards, and informed them of the prince's orders. I went to my quarters. Of all the men on board, only Rikard, Jerald and I had private rooms.

Mine was tiny, but the other men were crammed four to a cabin. I was grateful for small favors.

I changed into my exercise clothes and made my

way to the room deep in the belly of the ship that served as a gym of sorts for myself and my fellow guards. I ran on the treadmill until my legs felt like rubber and my lungs burned.

At twenty-five, I was young to be captain of the

prince's personal guard. I knew I should have been pleased, and sometimes I was. But at times like this, stuck on a tin can in the middle of nowhere simply because Rikard was bored of the whores at home, I couldn't help but wish I was still a lieutenant with my old regiment.

Back in my own quarters, I showered and dressed.

When I was done, I stood in front of the mirror,

straightening my uniform. I wasn't sure why I bothered. I knew I wouldn't be wearing it long. It wasn't standard military issue. It was the uniform of Rikard's private guard.

It was stiff and cumbersome, with far too many layers. It

was designed for flash, not function. It was completely impractical for fighting, but it made us all look respectable.

It made Rikard feel important.

I thought about the pirates. I'd seen them earlier, going about their business in the port. If their ship was outrageous, it was nothing compared to the men

themselves. They were impossible to miss. Almost all had shaved the sides of their heads and had tattoos on their skulls. Many had grown what was left of their hair into long mohawks, either spiked or ratted into place, dyed garish, unnatural colors. They wore silk shirts and fine leather boots, all undoubtedly stolen, and the men I'd seen wore more eye makeup than the most common whore back home.

They were peacocks. I found them disturbing.

I checked my uniform in the mirror one last time,

debating whether I was going to indulge myself, if only for a moment. In the end, I decided there was no real reason not to. A gray metal cabinet built into the wall of my room served as my dresser. I knelt and pulled out the bottom drawer. Hidden behind it was a bag. My heart raced as I pulled it out. My cock grew hard in the confines of my uniform pants.

It was a risk bringing these items on board, but

faced with weeks or even months away from home, I hadn't

been able to leave them all behind. It was a small pleasure.

Why should I deny himself?

I reached into the bag, fondling what was hidden

inside, wishing I could do more. Wishing I could take them out and feel them against my flesh…

But it wasn't to be.

With a sigh, I put the bag back in its hiding spot and replaced the dresser-drawer that hid it. I shifted my fading erection in my pants before leaving my room.

I had one last duty I was expected to perform

tonight.

Rikard was waiting for me. He was slightly drunk,

still wearing only his fur robe.

"Captain Kelley," he said as he grabbed my belt and pulled me through the door. "You made me wait so long."

"My apologies, sir."

"Oh, Trissy," Rikard purred as he pushed close and began to undo my pants. "Don't pretend like you don't know why you're here." He wrapped one arm around my neck and pulled me down into a kiss. His lips were cold but his tongue was sweet and smoky from the tobacco he

smoked. My body began to respond to him, as it always

did. Sometimes I thought my cock did it just to spite me.

"Fuck me, Trissy," he whispered. "Don't you want to fuck me?"

Did I? It was a question I'd pondered a great deal, both before and after I actually did the deed. I didn't love the prince—I barely even liked him, most of the time—and while it was true the time spent in his bed often felt as much like duty as pleasure, the simple fact remained that when Rikard shed his robe, when he got down on his hands and knees in front of me and begged me to fuck him, I always rose to the occasion. I knew it made me weak, and yet it never changed. As I gripped the prince's hips and drove into him from behind, I always found it hard to remember why I sometimes loathed him. Whatever his

other faults, the man was a great fuck. He was a demon in bed.

Of course, once it was over, Rikard would light one of his expensive cigarettes. He'd put his robe back on and dismiss me with a flick of his slender wrist. It never hurt my feelings. My pride, though? My pride suffered a bit each time. It was at that moment I always wished I wasn't the prince's favorite playmate. That was the moment when I wondered if my willingness in bed had gained me my

promotion, rather than my prowess as a captain.

"Come on, Trissy," Rikard moaned, grinding

against me harder, looking up at me with glazed, pleading eyes. "Fuck me, baby. I know you want to."

His pupils were huge. There was more than alcohol

and imported tobacco flowing through his bloodstream. I knew what that meant—Rikard's favorite drug made him wanton, and more than a little bit desperate. It heightened his arousal while making his orgasm frustratingly elusive.

It might have helped if I was willing to use some of it myself, but I hated the way it made me feel in the morning.

"Fuck me," Rikard said again as he reached down and began to stroke his own cock. "Trissy, I need it. Now!"

I sighed as I began to unbutton my stiff uniform

coat. For better or worse, I was in for a very long night.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

The nice thing about being dismissed immediately

after sex was that I rather liked sleeping in my own bed. I was willing to fuck Rikard, but I was glad I didn't have to fake any post-coital intimacy with him.

Despite not getting back to my room until far too

late, I slept well. I felt good. We'd made it out of port without any trouble. Maybe Rikard had been right after all.

I'd had extra men on duty through the night,

although what exactly they would have done if the pirates had pursued us, even I didn't know. Now those four men were sleeping, and the crew would be back to two-man rotations. The farther away we distanced ourselves from Roland, the more relaxed they'd all become.

Days en route were long and tedious. On such a

small ship, there wasn't much to be done. Some men read.

Some filled their free time with exercise. But no matter what, things always became tense after a few days. I often thought the crew would be better off if they'd simply shed their clothes and enjoy a good old-fashioned fuck, but they never did. As far as I'd been able to determine, none of the men on this particular trip were willing to fool around with another man, even if it was the only thing on board worth doing. By the time we reached our destination the entire lot

of them would be unbearable. The whores on Belhah would end up bearing the brunt of the men's frustrations. I hoped they charged well for their services.

Rikard didn't insist on sex that night and instead

dismissed me immediately after dinner. He was clearly bored with me and anxious to find somebody new to

entertain him on Belhah. I was too relieved to be offended.

I went to the exercise bay and pushed myself long and hard.

When I finally returned to my quarters, I fell into bed, too exhausted even to indulge myself with what lay hidden behind my dresser-drawer. I fell sound asleep.

I woke to men shouting, seemingly just down the

hall from my room. I couldn't make out their words, but there was no missing their urgency. Men yelling wasn't necessarily indication of a problem—more than likely, it was simply two men having a disagreement, as often

happened when we were locked together in such tight quarters for any amount of time.

I was halfway into my pants when the alarm went

off, a loud, blaring horn that caused me to clamp my hands over my ears. Still barefoot, wearing only my uniform pants, I stumbled into the hallway and turned toward the commotion at the end of the hall.

Pirates!

I had only a moment to see it all: Rikard, fully

dressed and blindfolded, with his hands tied behind his back, and the pirates with their loose silk shirts and their bright, spiked hair. They were all wearing wrap-around mirrored shades over their eyes, and I had just enough time to realize what that meant, but not enough time to do anything about it before the flashgun blinded me.

Flashguns were a favorite weapon of pirates—they

blinded the victim, but not permanently. With laser treatment, eyesight could be restored almost immediately.

Without treatment, eyesight would generally return in four to six weeks. It incapacitated without lowering the trade value of the commodity. Even knowing it was coming, the sudden loss of sight was unbelievably disorienting. I stumbled and fell into the wall. I had to use it to hold me up. I kept blinking—some part of my brain seemed to think it would help.

The blaring alarm stopped, leaving my ears ringing.

"Is he the last?" one of the pirates asked.

"According to our intel, yes. Good idea, pulling the alarm."

They'd already taken all of the men on the ship

without setting off any alarms? How was that possible?

I had my bearings back now. I pushed away from

the wall, moving to the middle of the hallway to give myself room to fight them. They'd already taken all of my

men, but they weren't going to take me so easily. The fact that none of them were behind me would make it easier.

I could hear their footsteps as they came for me.

There were two of them.

"No point in fighting," one of them said.

Nice of him to speak up so I knew where to direct

my attack.

I hit him with a solid kick to the face. I felt his nose break under my bare heel—my hand-to-hand instructor from years ago would have been proud. Predictably, the other one grabbed me from behind. It was easy enough to flip him forward over my shoulder. I drove a punch down into him. I missed his nose. It felt like I hit closer to his temple instead, but it was enough that he cursed.

Of course, the rest of them had figured out I wasn't going as easily as they'd hoped, and they jumped me all at once. I fought them as well as I could, and I was pretty sure a few of them took elbows to the face, but I couldn't see, and they had me vastly outnumbered, so it ended the way we all knew it would: with me pinned to the ground.

"Son-of-a-bitch broke my nose!" one of them said, his voice muffled, probably by his hands.

Another laughed. A couple of the others were still

moaning and cursing. The pirates wrenched my arms

behind my back and tied my wrists before yanking me to

my feet.

"You done fighting?" one asked, obviously amused.

Any sense of direction I'd had after being blinded

had been lost during the fight. I couldn't see. My arms were tied.

I knew when I was beat. "Yes," I told him. For now, at least.

"Good," he said. He took my arm and began leading me down the hallway. "I've never had a blind man cause so much trouble."

Still with the amusement. I wished he were angry.

"I suppose that will teach them to assume too

much," he continued.

"I wasn't trained to quit."

"None of your men fought like you."

"Fucking bastards!" I wasn't sure if I meant him or my waste of a crew.

He apparently assumed I meant his band of pirates.

He laughed. "Yes, I suppose we are."

"How did you get past the lock code?" I asked.

"You'd have to ask Captain Yima."

The truth was, I didn't need to ask Captain Yima. I already knew. Somebody had given them the code. There was no other way they could have gained access to our ship so quickly and so quietly. The question was, who? Which

one of my men had betrayed us?

Our ship was small. Even blind, I recognized our

route. He led me to the airlock, which meant he was taking me to his ship. I heard the door close behind us, then a wave of cool air washed over me as the door in front of us opened. It smelled awful, like some kind of feces, and I winced.

"Sorry about that," he said as he led me across a large, echoing chamber. "Our last job was transporting a herd of sheep. I'm not sure we'll ever get rid of the smell."

I didn't answer.

"You're Captain Kelley, are you not?" he asked. He was shorter than me by an inch or two—I could tell by the direction of his voice. "I thought so," he said when I didn't respond. "Rather young to be a captain, aren't you?"

Yes, but I wasn't about to confess anything to him.

"You can obviously fight," he said. "Is that why they promoted you so young?"

Again, I chose to remain silent.

"Leadership can be a burden. Especially at such a young age."

"What would you know about it?"

"Quite a bit, actually," he said, and I could tell he was amused again.

We stopped. I heard a door open in front of me and

he led me inside. Only two steps though, and we stopped again. The door closed behind me. The sheep smell wasn't nearly as strong in this room. I didn't realize we were in a lift until it began to move. The sudden motion caused my knees to wobble. It felt like we were going down, but I couldn't be sure. I braced myself against the wall and attempted to look less concerned than I really was.

"Tell me Captain Kelley, are you by any chance ganymede?"

The question caught me completely off-guard, first

because the term wasn't often used, but also because there was only one reason he'd be asking if my sexual preference was for other men. My heart began to pound with fear at the implications. My mouth went dry. I wanted to open my mouth and say no, that I liked women, but it was too late.

Whatever he'd seen on my face was all the answer he needed.

He made a low sound, almost like a growl. "That's the best news I've heard all week." I felt his hand land on my elbow. It began to move slowly up my arm.

"Don't touch me," I said through clenched teeth, although we both knew the threat was meaningless. My hands were bound. I was blind. What was to stop him?

"Relax," he said. "I won't hurt you."

It wasn't exactly being hurt that I was worried

about.

"Your stay with us doesn't have to be unpleasant."

"Fuck you!" Not my wittiest comeback, but about the only thing I could think of.

"You have no idea how tempting that offer is."

He let go of my arm. I jumped as his finger landed

on my collar bone instead. It began to trail slowly down my chest. I tried to move away, but I was backed against the wall of the lift with nowhere to go. It was a infuriating, knowing I had no way to stop him from touching me, and knowing that at some point, my body was bound to respond to him, whether I wanted it to or not. The flesh was weak.

Hadn't Rikard proven that me over and over again?

"I have to tell you, Captain Kelley, I find you…

intriguing."

"The interest isn't mutual."

He laughed again. His fingers reached the buckle on my pants and stopped. "I suggest you think of this little delay as something of a vacation. We could have some fun while you're on board."

The lift finally came to a stop and the door hissed open. I was relieved when he took his hand away from my pants and took my arm again.

"Think about it," he said as he began to lead me…

somewhere.

"Not a chance in hell," I said. Again, not exactly witty, but the only thing my mind seemed able to produce.

He sighed, sounding genuinely disappointed. "Suit yourself." We stopped again, and a door in front of us opened. The air that washed over us was warm and smelled of antiseptic. "Here we are," he said. "Your temporary home."


	3. Chapter 3

Chris wanted to sit on the porch and feel the rain. But Michael would eventually come out and ruin  
it, so he went back to his bedroom, where he could lock the door and sit by the window.  
The heart of the storm was drawing closer, sending a strong breeze through the screen to ruffle  
pages of the notebook sitting there. Nick had claimed the desk chair to prop his feet on the bed.  
Gabriel was rolling a silver Zippo lighter across his knuckles, making it click every time it changed  
direction. Chris leaned against his dresser and looked out the window, watching the lightning flash in  
the distance.  
Then he just waited.  
"So she doesn't like rain," said Gabriel.  
Nick smiled. "I kind of like the irony."  
"Jesus, you are such a nerd." Gabriel flung the lighter at him. "Stop using big words."  
"Five letters is a big word?"  
Chris sighed. "No one likes rain."  
"You do," said Nick. He flung the lighter back to his brother.  
Gabriel caught it. "Maybe we should put some money on it, see how long it takes Chris to get her  
wet."  
Chris ignored the double entendre and glanced at the pile of makeup work still sitting on his desk.  
"Could we maybe speed this up?" He could feel the rain pooling on his windowsill again. The red  
tail sharks in his tank circled and chased, slicing through the water until the less aggressive ones hid  
among the driftwood at the bottom.  
Nick gave a low whistle. "Leave him alone, before the fish kill each other."  
Chris gave a pointed look at the door. "Why don't you both leave me alone."  
Gabriel laughed and made no move to leave. "You have got it bad for this girl."  
Like that mattered. She'd been pretty clear where he stood. "Tyler shouldn't be hassling her."  
"He'll back off," said Nick. "He'll realize she's got nothing to do with us."  
"I don't know about that." Chris glanced at the fish. They helped him manage his temper—he didn't  
like riling them. But they seemed to be settling. "He threatened her. He told her the deal is off."  
Nick pulled his feet off the bed to sit up straight. "He said that?"  
Chris nodded. "Well. She said he did."  
Gabriel rolled the lighter across his knuckles again, slowly now. "Because of last night?"  
Chris met his eyes, then shrugged.  
He still didn't regret it.  
"The deal can't be off," said Nicholas. "They can't just decide—"  
"They can do whatever they want," said Chris, the words tasting bitter.  
Nick stood. "We have to tell Michael. He'll—"  
"He'll do nothing," said Gabriel. "Don't tell him."  
His twin looked at him like he was nuts. "Are you crazy? We have to—"  
"No." Gabriel sat up, any trace of humor gone from his expression. Thunder rolled in the air  
outside. "You saw him last night. He doesn't give a crap what they do. All he cares about is letting  
them have their way."  
"So what do we do?" said Chris. He thought about the way he'd felt the water freeze into Tyler's  
skin. That had been a good storm. A powerful one. He wondered how much damage he could do if he  
practiced.  
The thought scared him, a little. But it comforted him, too.  
"Tyler says the deal is off." Gabriel flipped the lighter in the air and snapped it, lighting it as it  
spun. The flame danced between his fingers. "He's not going to hold to it. Right?"  
"Don't be stupid," said Nick. He knew his twin.  
Chris knew him, too. But he liked the note of danger in Gabriel's voice, the promise. It reminded  
him of that moment of solidarity last night. "Right ... ?"  
Gabriel smiled. "That means we aren't held to it, either."  
Her mom was working the night shift again. The sheer irony was that any kid with a normal social  
life would envy Becca's freedom.  
Quinn was sitting in the kitchen, but schoolbooks were spread across the table tonight. She looked  
up at Becca through a fall of blond hair. Her voice was small. "Hey. Your dad called again."  
Swell. Becca hung her jacket in the hall. "What, you'll speak to me when you need a place to stay?"  
"You're the one who didn't answer my texts."  
"Maybe if you hadn't bolted from the lunch table, I could have mentioned that I broke my phone last  
night."  
Quinn didn't say anything for a long moment. Becca grabbed a soda from the fridge and swung into  
a chair. She glanced down at the notebook on the table. Quinn was struggling with Trigonometry.  
"So you want me to leave?" said Quinn.  
Becca rolled her eyes and popped the can. The storm seemed to be sticking around—thunder still  
boomed every few minutes and lightning threw silhouettes against the glass. "You are such a drama  
queen."  
Quinn flung her textbook closed. "Well, at least it's better than being a liar."  
Becca sat up straight. "A liar? What the hell did I lie about?"  
"Self-defense class? You could have just told me you were sleeping with Chris Merrick."  
"Who said—wait—what the—are you crazy?" Becca couldn't string a sentence together. "You  
think I'm sleeping with him? Why on earth would you think that?"  
"Gee, I don't know." Her voice dropped to a mocking baritone. "I'm just here to thank Becca for  
last night."  
Becca stared at her, unsure whether to laugh or cry. "Quinn—"  
"You could have told me, you know." Quinn doodled on the margin of her notebook. "I didn't even  
know you liked him, Bex... . I mean, after all the stuff with Drew—"  
"I did go to self-defense class. And I didn't sleep with Chris." Becca paused, waiting for Quinn to  
look up. "When I came out, Seth Ramsey and some college guy were beating the crap out of him in the  
parking lot."  
"Why?"  
The question made her stop. It was a good one. "I don't know. But I chased them off with the car."  
She told Quinn everything, including what had happened in the pet store and her visit to the Merrick  
house.  
"You should call the cops," Quinn said.  
"And tell them what? I don't even know Tyler's last name."  
"You know Seth's." Quinn's voice was careful.  
"I'd rather not get involved, Quinn."  
"Bex—"  
"Leave it." Becca glared at her.  
Quinn rocked back in her chair. "So you aren't interested in Chris?"  
"Please. He doesn't really want to go out with me."  
"I think the sixty-dollar thing is kind of adorable." Quinn chewed on the end of her pencil and  
glanced up.  
Becca groaned. "You're not helping."  
"I'm just saying—maybe people are over the Drew thing."  
"Tommy Dunleavy's note today asked me if I give a happy ending."  
Quinn winced. "Okay, maybe some people are over the Drew thing."  
Becca replayed her comments to Chris, the way she'd lashed out at him over the lunch table. She  
frowned, but then scowled. "Still. A soccer game? That can't be a coincidence."  
"Yeah, well." Quinn flipped the textbook open, her eyebrows raised. "Guess you'll never know  
now."  
"You suck." Becca grinned and shoved her notebook at her.  
Then Quinn shoved it back, a little more pointedly. She tapped her pen where a number was  
scrawled. "You going to call your dad or what? I can only be a bitch for so long."  
"You sure about that?"  
Quinn made a face. "You know, that's a local number."  
Becca stared. She hadn't noticed. Did that mean he was in town?  
Did it matter?  
Becca tore the piece of paper from the notebook.  
Then, just like last night, she crumpled it up, shoved it in the trash, and carried it out to the curb.  
CHAPTER 9  
By Friday, Chris still looked like crap, and Becca wanted to call him on it. But in third-period  
English Lit, he sat across the room and didn't make eye contact once.  
Fine.  
She must have beaten Chris to World History, because New Kid was sitting in the same seat as the  
day before—Chris's usual spot. He'd paired a rust-colored tee shirt with dark jeans and black Vans  
today. Average, nothing-special clothes that looked striking and exotic just because he was wearing  
them.  
Monica Lawrence was sitting at the desk next to him, leaning into him, giggling at something he'd  
said. She called Tommy Dunleavy her boyfriend, but you wouldn't know it from the way she was  
putting her assets front and center.  
Not that New Kid seemed to mind.  
Guess he doesn't need the dog to pick up chicks after all.  
Becca swung her bag higher on her shoulder and moved down the aisle to her seat, carefully  
avoiding Monica's eyes.  
New Kid looked up when she passed. "Hey—"  
"Ohmigod, no," said Monica. Her manicured hand latched onto his arm and a spill of blond hair  
pooled on his desk. Her boobs were going to explode from the neckline of her shirt in a minute.  
Then she leaned in close and whispered into his ear, breaking off to glance at Becca more than  
once.  
Yup, that had lasted about five minutes.  
"Grow up," Becca muttered. She dropped into her chair, busying herself with pulling a textbook  
from her backpack, finding a pen, and establishing the mental fortitude for the abuse that would start  
when Tommy sat down.  
"Hey."  
It was Chris Merrick's voice, his tone almost aggressive—and so startling that she jerked her head  
up, sure he was talking to her.  
But he was standing next to New Kid, a hand braced on the nylon strap of his backpack. "You're in  
my seat."  
New Kid lifted his head, a slow, deliberate movement. Becca watched him size up Chris—but his  
eyes widened fractionally when they got to Chris's face. The bruising along his cheekbone and jaw  
had lightened, turning a mottled yellowish blue. His lip was healing, but you could still see a split.  
Monica was staring, her lips slightly parted. "What happened?" she said, her voice soft with awe.  
"Wow. Yeah." New Kid settled back in his chair—a clear refusal to move. One eyebrow lifted,  
and his voice was dry. "Someone sit in your seat?"  
Monica snorted with laughter and giggled behind her hand.  
Chris leaned down, his blue eyes dark, like the ocean at night. The bag slipped off his shoulder to  
hit the floor.  
Mr. Beamis chose that moment to step into the classroom. He cleared his throat. "Mr. Merrick. I  
presume you're welcoming our new student?"  
Chris put a hand on New Kid's desk. "Welcome. Move."  
"Keep moving, Mr. Merrick," said Beamis. His tone drew the attention of the rest of the class, and  
conversation died. "There's a seat farther down. I suggest you find it."  
Chris didn't move. Neither did New Kid.  
Beamis dropped his briefcase on the top of his desk and snapped the latches. "Or would you prefer  
to find a seat in the office?"  
Half the class did that stupid "Oooh" thing. Then laughed. Chris grabbed his bag and sighed, then  
walked six feet to drop into the next empty seat in the row.  
Right next to Becca.  
He didn't even glance at her, just pulled a textbook from his bag.  
"That's Jocelyn Kanter's seat," she said under her breath. "You gonna make her fight you for it  
later?"  
He stopped, turned his head, and looked at her from under his bangs. "You too?"  
"I'm not the one who picked a fight over a chair."  
He looked away, so she did, too, staring down at the glossy pages of her textbook. From the corner  
of her eye, she saw New Kid glance her way, but she kept her gaze down and flipped a page, not  
wanting to make eye contact.  
Furniture scraped along the tile floor. Students were moving desks, shifting the writing surfaces  
together. Becca threw her head up. What had she missed?  
They seemed to be turning six rows of desks into three. She started pushing her desk to the right,  
watching the others to make sure she was following instructions she hadn't heard.  
"What are we doing?" she whispered to Chris.  
"Succumbing to the whims of a bitter old man." He shoved his desk the rest of the way, until it was  
up against hers.  
She sighed. "I meant—"  
"Rewriting a peace treaty," he said. "Semester project."  
Talk about a thrill-a-minute. "Why are we moving the desks?"  
He snorted. "Who the hell knows. He probably read about this in a teachers' magazine."  
"Quickly, everyone," said Beamis. "Quickly. Now that you're partnered, you will work together  
over the next six weeks—"  
The class erupted in groans, and several girls scrambled to change seats so they could be together.  
She and Chris didn't move for the longest moment.  
"Great," said Chris, his tone flat.  
"Sorry," she snapped. "I'm sure you'd rather be with Monica."  
But Monica looked all too pleased to be partnered with New Kid. Two rows over, Tommy was  
fuming, sprawled in his chair, completely ignoring his partner Anthony Denton, the scrawny boy who  
was two years younger than everyone else because he'd skipped a couple grades in elementary  
school.  
"Do you know the new guy?" said Chris. "He keeps looking at you."  
She glanced up in surprise. New Kid was writing in his notebook, not looking anywhere near her.  
Chris leaned in. "Earlier."  
Becca looked down and doodled on the corner of her paper, feeling warm. Chris was so close, his  
voice dark and intimate like it had been in his bedroom the night before.  
Her tongue felt tied in knots, so she just shrugged. "Not really."  
He went silent for a while, every now and again copying instructions from the assignment as  
Beamis outlined the structure of the grading.  
He kept his eyes on his paper and said, "Look. If you want to partner with someone else, I get it."  
Did he not want to be with her? "It's fine," she said quickly. Then she added, "It's only six weeks."  
He gave a short, humorless laugh. "I'll try to suffer through it, too."  
She had no idea what that meant.  
A folded piece of paper flew through the air and landed on the center of her book. She jumped.  
Tommy Dunleavy was hiding a smirk. Her throat felt tight. Now? Really?  
Chris reached out and grabbed it.  
"No!" she hissed, trying to take it back. "Give that to—"  
Then he had it open in front of him. With their seats so close together, she could read it over his  
arm.  
$5 Sucky sucky?  
Gross. She snatched it out of his hands and crumpled it up.  
Her cheeks burned. Her eyes weren't far behind. Seeing the notes privately was bad enough.  
Having a guy like Chris Merrick read them—right in front of her—was a million times worse.  
"Hey. Dunleavy." Chris's voice carried a shred of wicked humor.  
Tommy looked over his shoulder. His eyes were amused, and a dark smile still hung on the edge of  
his lips. He sat ready for his efforts to be appreciated. "Yeah?"  
Chris took the crumpled ball of paper out of her hands and flung it. "Fuck off."  
Tommy came halfway out of his seat, his hands balled into fists.  
Chris came halfway out of his.  
"Gentlemen!" Beamis was knocking on his desk, though Becca couldn't imagine what he expected  
that to do. Chris hadn't moved farther; his glare locked on Tommy now.  
The class sat frozen, Becca included.  
"Christopher," said Mr. Beamis. "Take a visit to the office."  
And though she was staring at him, Chris didn't look at her. He just shoved his books into his bag,  
slung it over his shoulder, and strode out of the classroom.  
"So let me get this straight," said Quinn, spinning her water bottle in her hands. The rain seemed to  
be holding off, so they had the lunch table to themselves again. "He threw the note at Tommy and then  
told him to fuck off? Or do I have it backwards?"  
"I'm detecting some sarcasm."  
"And then got himself sent to the principal's office because he was ready to defend your honor?"  
"Quinn."  
Her friend waved a hand. "No, I think you might be on to something. This is clearly an elaborate  
plot to screw with you. He asks you out, he defends you from that meathead—what next?" Quinn's  
eyes flashed wide in mock surprise. "Crap, Bex, do you think he'll do something truly horrible like  
buy you flowers?"  
Becca gave her a look. "So you think I should apologize."  
"No. I think you should give him a shot." Quinn rolled her eyes and dropped her voice. "I think you  
should give someone a shot."  
Becca chewed on her lip and peeled at the label of her water bottle.  
A shadow fell across the table and a lunch tray slapped down next to Quinn.  
Becca jerked her head up, surprised by the quick flutter in her chest.  
But it wasn't Chris—it was New Kid.  
She stared up at him. It took her brain a second to get it together.  
"Hey," he said, dropping onto the bench beside Quinn. "Why do you sit all the way back here?"  
Quinn looked at him for a moment, then back at Becca. Her expression was some combination of  
bemused and incredulous. "Did you save his life, too?"  
New Kid picked up his fork and looked over. "Whose life did you save?"  
Becca opened her mouth, then closed it. Her brain was refusing to engage. She couldn't figure out  
how to play this without knowing what his motives were. The quick and easy intimacy of discussing  
death in the aisle of Pets Plus didn't exist here—especially since she'd seen him sit head-to-head  
with Monica for fifty minutes.  
"Quinn's just being silly." She kept her voice disinterested. "You ... ah, you're eating with us?"  
His whole tray was full of healthy food—grilled chicken, steamed vegetables, brown rice. No  
wonder he'd gotten through the line so quickly. He went for the stuff most kids wouldn't touch.  
He peeled the lid off something that looked like sliced fruit. "That all right?"  
Quinn put an elbow on the table and gave him a level look. "She wants to know why."  
He raised an eyebrow. "I'm hungry and I don't know anyone else?"  
Becca wasn't going to buy any poor-little-new-kid crap now. "You seemed to be getting to know  
Monica Lawrence pretty well."  
He met her gaze head on, a spark of boldness in his green eyes. "Oh," he said, his voice flat. "You  
mean instead of sitting here, I could hear all about Monica's badass cheer routine and where she gets  
her highlights done and how some girl named Claire, who's a total whore by the way—"  
"Okay, okay." Becca couldn't help the smile.  
"No, wait. I'm just getting going." He sliced into his chicken.  
"Claire is a total whore," said Quinn. "She and Monica sit behind me in Trig."  
Becca watched New Kid work the cutlery. "Bet you wish you'd given up your seat now, huh?"  
"Oh." Quinn settled back on the bench and gave him a more appraising look. "This is that guy."  
He looked thrown for a second. "That guy?"  
Quinn nodded. "Pet store hero, ex-police-dog owner, seat stealer."  
Trust her best friend to be absolutely direct. Becca glanced away and tucked her hair behind her  
ear. "I might have mentioned you."  
"She spilled all your secrets," said Quinn.  
"Yeah?" He sliced off a piece of chicken and glanced across the table. "What's my name, Becca?"  
Busted. Becca wanted to melt into a puddle.  
Quinn grinned. "You mean it's not really New Kid?"  
Becca kicked her under the table. "That's not fair. I was wearing a name tag."  
"It's Hunter." His fork went still as he held her eyes. "Want me to write it down?"  
Yeah, with your number. Talking to him felt entirely different from sitting with Chris, exhilarating  
and challenging and breathless all at once—like running a race.  
"Nah, I've got it," she said.  
He picked up a forkful of broccoli. "Was Chris the same one those guys were looking for last  
night?"  
She lost the smile. "Yeah."  
"I shouldn't have been a dick about the seat. I didn't realize you'd get stuck with him."  
There was a thread of disdain woven through his voice. She frowned. "He's okay."  
"He looks like a thug."  
"Those guys did that to him."  
Hunter must have heard the tone in her voice, but he didn't back off. "Somehow I get the impression  
it might have been deserved."  
Becca stared at him for a moment, torn over whether to defend Chris. Hunter didn't help, either,  
just looking at her across the table as if he could hear her thoughts fighting it out.  
"What's with the white hair?" said Quinn.  
He broke the eye contact with Becca and smiled at her friend. "I thought you knew all my secrets."  
Now Quinn blushed.  
His smile turned into a grin. He looked down at his tray and shoveled rice onto his fork. "You guys  
hitting that party tonight?"  
"Which one?" Becca said drily. "We try to make the circuit."  
He smiled in a way that said he saw right through her. "Well—and I want to make sure I get this  
straight—Monica said Claire said her boyfriend's best friend's brother was home from college with  
that skank Melissa—"  
"No," said Becca sharply. "We're not."  
His eyebrows went up.  
"Jesus," said Quinn. "You followed that?"  
Becca faltered, knowing she sounded like a freak. But Claire's boyfriend was Matt Carpenter. The  
goalie of the soccer team.  
And Drew McKay's best friend.  
"I might have to work," she said lamely. Her heart was kicking.  
"I hear you," he said.  
"You said you weren't working tonight," said Quinn. "Free and clear, you said."  
Becca slapped her water bottle on the table. "Damn it, Quinn."  
"Free and clear, huh?" Hunter said.  
"Look," she said, hearing her voice come out choked. She had to clear her throat. "That party is  
going to be at Drew McKay's house... ."  
"Old boyfriend?"  
"No."  
"Yes," said Quinn. When Becca glared at her, she shrugged. "It's true."  
His pierced eyebrow lifted. "Still carry a torch?"  
"No," she snapped.  
Hunter was just looking at her, his eyes bright and challenging again. Her breath caught. Forget  
running a race—this felt like dancing.  
"In or out?" he said.  
All that air left her lungs in a rush. She stared right back at him.  
"In."  
Chris counted the rust-colored cinderblocks of the detention room. Twice.  
When the bell rang, he scowled through the lecture about a next time and hustled up the stairs to the  
front hall. Gabriel and Nick weren't exactly patient.  
They weren't exactly there, either. The bench by the double doors sat empty.  
Chris swore.  
It was only three miles. He'd walked it before.  
The last time sucked.  
But Michael's work truck sat idling in the fire lane, a massive red pile of steel with their last name  
on the door. The diesel engine roared over the extracurricular students spilling through the double  
doors, a low thrum that moved the pavement.  
Michael was working on something, his head bent over a notebook.  
Chris was halfway through the crosswalk when Michael's voice caught him. "Don't screw with  
me, Chris."  
Whatever. Chris climbed into the cab and flung his backpack on the floorboards. The truck  
perpetually smelled like mulch and grass clippings and always reminded him of his father.  
He didn't look at his brother. "What are you doing here?"  
Michael flipped the notebook closed and shoved it into the center console. "It seemed as good a  
place as any to catch up on paperwork."  
This would go on forever and a day if Chris let it. "Would you just say whatever you came to say?"  
Michael waited for students to clear the road before pulling the truck away from the curb. "I think  
you're the one who needs to do some talking."  
Chris had no idea what that meant. Did Michael know about what Tyler had said? About the deal?  
He kept his mouth shut.  
Michael glanced over. "You picked a fight in class?"  
Christ, this was worse. "The school called you?"  
"No. I'm psychic. What the hell is wrong with you? First that crap with Seth and Tyler, and now  
this?"  
Chris felt his hands curl into fists. It wasn't like he'd laid a hand on Dunleavy—and that was the  
rule. No contact, no parents. Now he wished he'd just slammed that stupid prick in the face. "I didn't  
pick a fight."  
"Chris—"  
"I didn't."  
Michael said nothing for the longest time, and Chris felt his hands start to unknot. He leaned back  
against the headrest and stared out the window as the trees raced past.  
"Then tell me," Michael said finally.  
"They shouldn't have called you." Chris picked at the upholstery on the door. "I didn't even touch  
him."  
"Why don't you tell me what you did do?"  
"I told him to fuck off." Chris sighed. "That's it."  
"Wow, just like that. Middle of class. No provocation at all—"  
"God, would you shut up? He was hassling someone, okay?" Chris expected that to launch a new  
round of interrogation, but Michael looked back at the road and didn't say anything.  
He was thinking, though. Chris could practically feel that.  
Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "All right, what?"  
"Was this 'someone' a girl?"  
This felt like a trap. Chris hesitated and decided not to say anything.  
Michael glanced over. "Could it be the girl who dragged you home? The one who conveniently  
showed up last night?"  
Maybe his brother was psychic. "How the hell do you know that?"  
"Because I'm not an idiot. I know you helped her get away from me that night."  
Chris scowled and looked at the trees again.  
"Stay away from her, Chris."  
"Jesus, could you sound more dramatic? I already told you, she's got nothing to do with Tyler.  
She's just a girl in my class."  
"Average girls don't jump into the middle of a fight between three guys. Stay away from her."  
Like it mattered. "Fine."  
They drove in silence for a mile, both staring through the windshield at nothing.  
"Look," said Michael, and his voice was low, quiet. "Even if she's an average girl—you don't  
have the control for a relationship, Chris."  
"I'm not in a relationship!" God, he should be so lucky. He'd give his left arm for someone outside  
this family to talk to. Chris rounded on him. "Besides, don't you think maybe you should be having  
this talk with Gabriel, who might actually be screwing half the cheer squad right now, or Nick, who  
has to beat girls off with a stick?"  
Michael hit the turn signal to pull into the driveway. The twins were tossing a basketball at the  
hoop over the garage. "They don't worry me."  
"Oh, but I do."  
"Yeah." Michael glanced over. "You do. Emotion and elements—they're too closely tied, Chris.  
Control—it can snap like that."  
Chris sighed.  
"Trust me," said Michael. "What if you hurt that girl? What if you—"  
"What if I hurt her?" Chris swung his head around. "You're one to talk."  
For an instant, he thought he'd pushed too far, that Michael would come after him the way he'd  
gone after Gabriel.  
But Michael just pulled the truck beside the garage and shifted into park, his jaw set, his hands tight  
on the wheel.  
Chris knew he should apologize. He didn't want to. "Look," said Michael, his voice rough. "Just  
let this mess with Tyler and Seth blow over, and they'll leave you alone again—"  
"Are you crazy?" Chris glared at him, the rage so pure he could barely speak around it. "Do you  
know they tried to kill Gabriel? Seth had—he had his hands—he was going to—"  
The cab door swung open. Gabriel stood there, a basketball under his arm.  
He met Chris's eye, then glanced past him at Michael. "Still being a dick?"  
"Shut up," said Michael. "Close the door."  
"Chris—want to play?"  
"We're talking," said Michael.  
Chris grabbed his backpack and swung out of the cab. "No, we're not."  
Then he slammed the door, flung his bag by the corner of the garage, and caught the ball Gabriel  
passed him.  
CHAPTER 10  
Becca was standing in the kitchen when her mom came down at seven, wearing an old tee shirt and  
threadbare sweatpants instead of her nursing scrubs.  
Becca stared at her. "What are you doing?"  
Her mom yawned and headed for the refrigerator. "There were too many nurses on, so they  
canceled me. Did you already eat?"  
"I found something." Becca dug her nails into her palms. Her "dinner" had consisted of a glass of  
chocolate milk—she was so nervous the thought of eating made her want to puke.  
Her mom started pulling food out of the refrigerator. "Isn't this nice? Maybe we can rent some payper-  
view or something."  
"Um, Quinn and I were going to catch a movie, actually," she said. "I'm supposed to pick her up

What are you seeing?"  
What is this, the Spanish Inquisition? Becca took a gulp of her chocolate milk. "I forget. Quinn  
picked."  
"Well, let me put some jeans on. I haven't been to a movie in ages."  
Becca almost dropped her glass. "You want to go? Mom—it's kind of a girls' night out... ."  
Her mom rolled her eyes. "I'm a girl, Becca. I haven't seen you all week—"  
"And whose fault is that?"  
Crap. Becca winced, wishing she could suck the words back into her mouth.  
"Becca, you know I started working nights so I could be home during the day." The refrigerator  
door swung closed, and her mother came to lean on the cooking island, a stern expression on her face.  
Becca couldn't remember seeing gray hair threaded along her mother's temples before, but it was  
sure there now.  
She wondered if her mom knew her father had called. Twice.  
"Look, Mom, I know—"  
But her mom was already off and running with the lecture. Becca resisted the impulse to keep  
glancing at the clock.  
When it seemed like she was winding down, Becca sighed and played the guilt card and glanced up  
at her through her lashes. "Mom, it's really about Quinn," she said in a hushed voice. "I think she  
wants to get away from parents for a while."  
That was probably true. Quinn was more than likely sitting in her living room, staring out the front  
picture window, desperate for Becca to pick her up.  
So they could drive to Drew McKay's house.  
Maybe a movie with Mom wouldn't be such a bad idea.  
Her mom studied her. "Just you and Quinn?"  
Becca averted her eyes and downed the last of her milk. "Yeah, Mom, who else?"  
"Well, you look very pretty."  
"It's just an old pullover." Thank god the house had been chilly. Otherwise her mom might have  
seen her in that silk top that exposed half an inch of midriff and made it look like she had a chest to  
write home about.  
Monica can kiss my ass.  
"I meant your hair. The makeup."  
That had taken forty-five minutes. She'd actually had to hunt for the curling iron.  
Becca started to put her glass in the sink, then thought better of it and rinsed it for the dishwasher  
since her mom was standing right there. "It's a Friday night. You know."  
"I know." Her mom was leaning against the refrigerator now.  
Becca bit the inside of her cheek, sure she was blushing.  
"Wow," she said, looking in the general direction of the clock, though her brain was too addled to  
register the time. She grabbed her bag and her car keys. "I'd better get going if we're going to get  
popcorn and stuff."  
Her mom was still watching her just a little too carefully. "Be careful, Bex. Not too late, okay?"  
"Sure, Mom." She'd almost made it to the front door.  
"I'll be up when you get home."  
Can't wait.  
Then Becca was out the door and into her car, well aware her mom watched her pull down the  
driveway, roll down the street, and waited at the window until she made the turn toward Quinn's  
house.  
Quinn wore a beaded tank, Capri pants, and strappy sandals, an outfit that demanded nicer weather.  
Her blond hair hung straight and shiny down her back, swinging when she jumped into the car.  
Quinn was fishing through the glove box for gum. "Why didn't you let Hunter pick you up?"  
Because that meant it was a date. This wasn't a date. This was a dare. Becca started to bite at her  
cuticles, then told herself to knock it off. "I wanted a getaway car."  
Quinn laughed—but when Becca didn't join her, she stared. "Seriously?"  
"Yep."  
"What do you think Drew's going to do, throw you down and rape you right in front of the soccer  
team?"  
That was probably number five on her list of worries. "I'm hoping Drew doesn't notice I'm there."  
"I'm proud of you."  
"Thanks, Mom."  
"Seriously." Quinn sounded hurt.  
"Thanks. Seriously." But Becca didn't feel like she'd done anything to be proud of.  
Drew lived down off River Bay Road, in an old shore house that could fit two of hers inside it. The  
house backed up to one of the many tributaries of the Chesapeake Bay, and sported a thirty-foot span  
of beach beyond his backyard. The water was nothing you'd want to swim in, but the beach was nice  
in the summer; just enough sand to make you feel like you were vacationing all the time.  
She remembered it well.  
She had to park down the road a ways, and they could hear the music from here. Some kids already  
had fires going in a couple of drums down on the beach. Smoke and charcoal wrapped around her and  
flavored the air.  
Quinn reached over and turned off the ignition, then put the keys in her pocket. "I'm taking your  
keys."  
Becca snapped to. "What? Quinn—I never drink—"  
"I don't give a crap if you drink. I don't want you bolting without consulting me." She smiled and it  
looked a little vicious. "Now get your ass out of the car."  
When they started walking toward Drew's house, Becca focused on the narrow strip of asphalt in  
front of her until it started to feel like a gangplank.  
One wrong step and she'd fall.  
What the hell am I doing here?  
"You came."  
The voice spoke out of the shadows to her left. Becca jumped and swore and almost took her friend  
down.  
Quinn grabbed her arm to steady her. "Damn it, Bex! God, I should have snuck you one of Mom's  
valiums. It's only New Kid."  
"Hunter," he said, but his voice was amused. He was leaning against a late model Jeep Wrangler  
with the top off, partially cloaked by the shadow of a cherry tree. He'd worn cargo pants and a  
charcoal long-sleeved tee, and his thumbs were hooked in his pockets.  
Casper's head hung over his shoulder, his tongue hanging out.  
Becca widened her eyes, delighted. "You brought your dog!"  
Quinn was just as wide-eyed. "He ... brought his dog."  
He reached up and rubbed the dog's ears. "I never really bring Casper anywhere. He gets out of  
the yard and finds me all the time. I'm always worried he'll end up under some guy's tires." He  
grimaced. "It's easier to let him hop in the car."  
This was awesome. The dog could be her bodyguard. She imagined Casper tearing into Drew the  
way he'd done to Tyler.  
But then Hunter said, "He'll just sleep in the back of the jeep." As if on cue, the dog lay down and  
rested his head on the tailgate.  
Damn it.  
Hunter pushed off the car and stepped closer, and suddenly she remembered this wasn't a chance  
meeting on the side of the road. "You didn't want me to drive."  
She looked up at him, tightening her grip on the strap of her purse. He smelled good, like woods  
and fresh air and confidence. "Is that a problem?"  
"I thought you might be planning to stand me up." His eyes were bright, his voice gently chiding. He  
glanced at Quinn. "Make New Kid walk in alone."  
Quinn rolled her eyes. "She just wanted a getaway—" Becca elbowed her in the side. "Have you  
been waiting long?"  
He shook his head. "Shall we?"  
The music pouring from the house seemed to move the sidewalk, and the front door stood wide  
open. It wasn't like those high school parties in the movies, where everyone was hot and well dressed  
and straight sober despite having a drink in hand. In front of Drew McKay's house, three guys were  
sitting on the front step, smoking. A girl wearing a fleece tracksuit was already puking in the front  
shrubbery. The word Juicy was plastered across her ass, and most of the vomit ended up in her hair.  
She staggered like she might pass out.  
One of the smokers jeered and flicked ash her way.  
Becca hesitated on the front walk.  
"Leave it," hissed Quinn. "Come on."  
Maybe she had too much of her mother in her, but Becca couldn't just blow right past that kind of  
train wreck.  
"Hey. Are you okay?" she asked.  
The girl looked up, rings of mascara under her eyes. Taylor Morrissey, varsity cheerleader. She  
swiped at her mouth with the end of her sleeve.  
"Becca Chandler?" she whispered.  
"Yeah." Becca tucked her hair behind her ear, very aware of the weight of Hunter's presence at her  
side. "You want me to get you a towel—or a washcloth—"  
"Why are you here? Did someone pay you to strip on tables or something?"  
One of the guys on the stoop snorted with laughter, blowing smoke through his nose.  
Becca jerked back. Despite hearing comments like that on a daily basis, it was still a surprise.  
"Drunk bitch," muttered Quinn.  
Then Taylor was laughing, almost hysterically, until she fell on her side in the grass. She narrowly  
missed rolling in her own vomit. "Or—wait—you just do it for free, right?"  
"Ignore her," said Hunter, his voice low and close to her ear. "She's hammered."  
But Taylor's words had punched her in the gut, and now Becca couldn't get enough air. She shook  
off Quinn's arm and spun for the sidewalk.  
Two of Drew's soccer team buddies were coming up the walk. One had a case of beer under his  
arm. She couldn't remember his name, but his eyes didn't get as far as her face—he was staring at her  
chest. "Hey, baby, where you going?"  
The smoke, the laughter, the sheer number of people surrounding her—it was all suffocating. She  
needed to get away. Quinn had her keys, so she bolted through the open door, into the foyer.  
Music slapped her in the face, something with a loud, driving beat pounding from the bass speakers  
in the living room. Some guy she didn't recognize had shot glasses lined up on the hall table, and he  
held one out to her.  
"A drink for every lady," he said with a wink.  
Liquid courage. Just what she needed. She took the glass from his fingers.  
It was like swallowing fire.  
It felt fantastic.  
He whistled and held out another. "Let me see you do that again."  
Her limbs felt hot and heavy already, as if the alcohol were traveling through her veins to her  
fingertips. She reached out and took the second glass.  
This burn was twice as nice.  
Some people from the living room were whistling now. She shut her eyes and felt her body waver,  
as if a wind had whipped through the hallway.  
When she opened them, he'd come around the table and was holding another shot in front of her.  
She could smell him now, liquor and smoke and male sweat. His voice turned low and taunting.  
"Let's see you get that down your throat."  
A hand reached out and took it before she could. "Let's not."  
Hunter.  
She meant to turn, to confront him. Her legs had a different idea. She stumbled and the room tilted  
sideways. She knew she was falling, but her brain couldn't get it together to do anything about it. She  
probably should have eaten dinner.  
Hunter caught her. She heard the shot glass rattle on the hardwood of the foyer.  
Her veins were still burning. Her knees wouldn't lock to hold her upright.  
Hunter glared over her shoulder. "What is that, tequila?"  
"Dude, it's not like I held her down—"  
"Stop it," she said, not wanting to hear any more talk of being held down. She tried to shrug out of  
Hunter's hands. The music was still slamming into her body with every beat. "Lemme go. I just want  
—I need my keys—"  
"Here." He backed her up until she was leaning against the molding between the hallway and the  
living room, then let her go. He looked at the guy with the shot glasses. "Get her a cup of water or  
something."  
She braced her hands behind her on the wall and stared up at Hunter. She couldn't figure out his  
expression, whether he was disgusted, or disappointed, or exasperated.  
Maybe Quinn was right. Maybe she was going about this all wrong.  
"Where's Quinn?" she said.  
"I told her to give me a second."  
Traitor.  
"Isn't this what you wanted?" At least her voice wasn't slurring yet, but everything felt warm.  
"Now I'm all liquored up. You didn't even have to work for it."  
His eyes narrowed. "Why would I want you trashed?"  
"You're a guy, right? Isn't that why you asked me here?"  
He glanced away and sighed.  
"See." She reached out and poked him in the chest. Hard. "Monica told you about me. About Drew.  
That's why you brought me here."  
"Damn. You're on to me." He was untying one of the twine bracelets from his wrist.  
His words drew her up short. "Wait. What?"  
He got one bracelet free and held it between his fingers as he untied another. He shook his head. "I  
have no idea what you're talking about."  
The movement of his fingers had her spellbound. What was he doing?  
"Monica talks too much," he said. "I stopped listening." He was on to a third bracelet, and he  
didn't look at her. "Besides, I prefer to figure things out for myself."  
Shot Glass Kid showed up with a plastic cup. "Here. Drew will shit if she pukes in the hallway."  
That made her want to stick her finger down her throat right there.  
Hunter took the cup and held it out to her. His eyes leveled with hers. "Drink."  
She took the cup and sipped. Water did nothing to tame the inferno in her stomach.  
He reached out and started tying one of the bracelets around her wrist.  
She was so startled that she let him. "What are you doing?"  
The silvery black stone strung on the twine fell against her skin, smooth and cool. It cut through the  
fire better than the water had. "This is hematite. For anxiety." His voice turned wry. "And clarity of  
thought."  
"It's a rock." But the tequila did seem to be having less effect.  
The corner of his mouth quirked, and he started tying another one. His fingers were gentle and  
warm against her wrist. "Amethyst. It does a lot of things, but really, I'm just trying to take the edge  
off so you can walk."  
He was walking around with a hunk of amethyst on a piece of twine? "You're giving me a bunch of  
rocks?"  
"Not giving." He glanced up. "Loaning."  
"What, are you afraid you'll be off balance?"  
"Something like that." He tied the third bracelet. "Quartz. To help the other two."  
She looked down at the three stones on her wrist and wasn't quite sure what to say. She sure didn't  
feel drunk now. Just a buzz.  
She touched her finger to the stones, and new awareness was bringing heat to her cheeks. She felt  
like a freak. It was probably a miracle he was still standing in front of her.  
Then again, he was the one tying on rock bracelets. She glanced up at him from under her lashes.  
"Don't tell me. You read Tarot cards, too?"  
"Mock all you want. You feel better, right?"  
She did. Standing in the hallway in this house full of people, with R&B music so loud it seemed  
part of her body, he somehow made her feel like they stood alone in the middle of a field. At night,  
under a silent moon.  
Becca had to take a deep breath.  
"I didn't realize coming here would upset you," he said.  
She shrugged and looked down into the cup of water. "It's all right."  
"My father used to tell me something, when people would screw with me," he said. His voice got  
kind of quiet, and she had to lean in to hear him.  
People used to screw with him? He seemed so ... untouchable. Above it.  
She didn't want to hear some sentimental pep talk, either. But his father had died, and whatever the  
words were, they were important to Hunter.  
"What?" she said.  
"Fuck 'em."  
Her head shot up. The edge of a smile played on his lips, but she could read the emotion in his  
eyes.  
"It helps," he said.  
Fuck 'em. She smiled. It did help.  
She looked up at him, standing so close. Her pulse picked up. She licked her lips. "I think I'm  
going to go ... ah ... straighten up."  
He took a step back and grinned. "You all right to walk?"  
Becca straightened and pushed off the wall. Her head still swam, but her legs felt steady. Mostly.  
"Yeah." She took a step into the hallway. Then another. The water in her cup didn't even slosh.  
"Thanks for the magic rocks," she called over her shoulder.  
As she turned the corner, she banged into something hard. Her eyes saw the blue shirt first, then the  
spread of water across a male chest. He swore.  
She recognized the voice and jerked


	4. mates1

"I DON'T disagree with you, Mother, Clarissa is a very beautiful woman. But I'm not going to date her."  
Zev didn't bother trying to hide the frustration in his voice. Honestly, how many times would he have to tell his family that he wasn't interested in their setups? He leaned his large frame against the back of the leather couch and rubbed his palms over his eyes. He was exhausted. Sleep rarely came to him, and when it did, he remained partially alert, terrified of losing his humanity while he was unconscious. He was barely hanging on as it was; this intervention was the last thing he needed.

His Grandma Mae's voice broke into his thoughts. Her frustration with Zev had reached such a high level that she was willing to question him, her Alpha, a practice unheard of in her generation. Then again, maybe it wasn't just her frustration; maybe Zev's attempts to bring their pack into modern times had been more successful than he'd realized.  
"I don't understand this, Zev. You're thirty years old. Your grandfather and I had already been married for close to a decade by the time we were your age. It's not natural or healthy for one of our kind to remain alone."

As if that was his cue, his Grandpa Walter jumped into the conversation. Had they drawn numbers in advance so to determine the order in which to beat up on him?

"I realize you feel we're intruding on your privacy, son, but any shifter with eyes can see the problems you're having, and the reason is plain. Shifters are deeply sexual beings, but the…." Walter paused and swallowed hard, as if it pained him to continue the sentence, "… the women you've been using to meet your physical needs are half-souls. They aren't enough to bind your humanity, especially for this many years. You're a strong man and a strong wolf, Zev, the strongest I've seen in my lifetime. But no shifter can outrun his nature, not that I understand why you insist on trying. Whatever the reason, if you don't tie with a shifter soon, your human side will be lost."

Did his family members actually think they were telling him something he didn't already know? Their only error was underestimating his strength and determination. Though the idea of meeting his sexual needs with humans—or half-souls, as shifters called them—repulsed his family, they were certain he'd been making a practice of it. How else could he have lived with both his human and wolf sides intact for three decades? They couldn't fathom a shifter living that long without sharing at least some physical bond.

Well, they were wrong. Zev hadn't tied with anyone—human or shifter—in his life, whether they believed him or not. But for how much longer? Returning from the change was becoming more and more difficult, with his wolf clinging to its form, not wanting his human to take over. And the longer the wolf remained in control of their body, the less likely it was that the human would be able to find his way to the surface again.

"There's no point in denying it, Zev. We know what you've been doing, and we don't judge you."  
Zev's father was sincere. Gregory Hassick was still uncomfortable with the idea of a shifter engaging in sexual acts with humans, but over the years, he'd learned to live with his son's oddities without looking down on him. After all, since Zev had begun his Alpha training, the Etzgadol pack had grown steadily, even more so since the young wolf had taken over as pack Alpha. And Zev had had equal success with the family business, which now earned an annual gross income that was more than double what it had been before Zev had taken over.

"Move your hands away from your face and look at us, Zev. This is serious. You cannot continue to choose this lifestyle. Your body cannot survive it." Gregory Hassick's voice was tight with worry.  
Zev dropped his hands to his sides and opened his amber eyes, knowing they were bloodshot and surrounded by dark circles. When was the last time he'd truly rested? He combed his fingers through his straight brown hair and resisted the urge to yell. His family loved him. He knew that. And this conversation, no matter how misplaced, was a reflection of that love.

"How many times do I have to explain this, Father? I'm not choosing this. I hate being alone. I haven't tied with any human women. I want to claim my mate more than anything."

Lori scooted closer to him on the couch and took his hand. The new egalitarian pack structure Zev had put in place was helped tremendously by his strong sister. She led the pack females by example, and they all admired her. But having power within the pack didn't change Lori's nature, her need to protect the family, to keep it strong. She couldn't go against their elders, which was why Lori had agreed to take part in this little family gathering. But neither would she speak against her brother, so she remained silent and tried to lend Zev support with her actions.

"Everyone wants a true mate, Zev," Gregory told him. "But very few shifters get them. The rest of us fall in love and feel completely satisfied with our chosen partners. Your mother and I have been happy together for well over half of our lives without the mating bond. Please, it's time to let go of childish fantasies and accept your fate. You haven't been blessed with a true mate, but you can still live a full life. Just tie with Clarissa or one of the other females in the pack. What can it hurt to try? Best-case scenario, you find this true mate you insist exists. Worst-case scenario, you have more regular companionship and a proper tie."

Zev couldn't hold back the growl in his chest. He was tired of their constant refusals to acknowledge the existence of his true mate and their never-ending setup offers. His parents had long ago stopped pretending the offers were about dinner and a movie. Were his parents honest with these women about the purely sexual role they were  
expected to play in his life? Probably not. Nobody outside of his family knew the truth. Hell, even those within his family denied it, despite the fact that he'd been clear with them for years.  
"Clarissa isn't my true mate. And I'm not interested in her companionship." He spat out his response, his tone expressing disgust with the very idea of their brand of companionship.  
"Why not, Zev? Are her breasts too small? Is her hiney too big? Just talk to us, and we can help you. If the females in our pack aren't satisfactory, we'll find a female in a neighboring pack for you so you can make a physical tie."

He winced. Now his other grandmother was engaged in the game. Had any other man ever faced an eighty-year-old woman offering him his choice of tits and ass? Dear God, please make it stop.  
"I'm gay, Granny Betty. Any breasts at all are a deal-killer, and I haven't ever paid attention to Clarissa's, um, hiney."

The diminutive gray-haired woman threw her hands in the air.  
"Our kind can't be gay, Zev. It just doesn't work that way. A male shifter needs to tie with a female shifter in order to bind his humanity, and the female needs to accept that tie from the male in order to release her wolf. This is basic preschool information, dear."

Zev dropped his head on top of his large hands, which were crossed over his knees. Yeah, he was very familiar with their kind's version of the birds and the bees. Every shifter's soul straddled two bodies: the wolf and the human. Women were naturally connected to their human side, but their wolf side was locked away, unable to find the freedom to run. Males, on the other hand, had free rein of their wolf from childhood, but their hold on their humanity was tenuous. The only way for a male shifter to retain his human form was to tie to a female shifter and absorb a portion of her humanity. Likewise, in order for a female shifter to retain her sanity she had to free her wolf from its cage, something that could be done only by accepting a male's tie.  
So, yeah, Zev knew the basic facts, but he'd long ago rejected the idea that they were absolute. Because to believe that would be to believe that he was unnatural, which couldn't be true, since he'd been  
blessed with the most precious gift nature could offer a shifter: a true mate.  
Of course, he had told his family the reason he hadn't tied was because he was waiting for his true mate. His male true mate. The first time he'd said the words to his parents, they'd been shocked. Gregory yelled so loudly at his son that the windows literally shook, and Anita stood in the kitchen and cried. When Zev refused to back down, despite his parents' protests, their feelings on the subject morphed into disgust, and they barred him from ever mentioning the issue again.  
After several years passed without any female shifters in their son's life, Anita and Gregory started to worry. They were too embarrassed to tell people about what they called Zev's "condition," but not knowing what else to do, they eventually relented and spoke to their own parents. All four of Zev's grandparents insisted that they'd never heard of such a thing, and it couldn't be true. So after that, Zev's family grudgingly lived in a state of denial, refusing to acknowledge the possibility that he could actually be gay.

Sitting in his parents' living room and fending off setup attempts made Zev realize there was a downside to empowering his pack to speak their minds—now he was forced to listen to them. Maybe he'd have been better off leaving things as they'd always been. Then nobody, and certainly not a female, even if she was an elder and a relative, would dare speak to the Alpha in such a condescending way.  
Zev dismissed the thought as soon as it entered his head. He was glad his family cared, glad his grandmother felt confident enough to question him, and glad members of his pack felt confident enough to share their feelings. The pack was stronger for it, even if it meant Zev had to endure this emotionally debilitating family intervention. He raised his eyes and responded to his grandmother.

"I will not seek companionship with anyone other than my true mate. You know only shifters without true mates can choose a life partner. A mated wolf can be tied to his humanity only by his true mate. So having sex with Clarissa or any of the other females in the pack won't get the job done anyway. And despite what you think, I do, in fact, have a true mate. Our souls are connected at the heart; that's not  
something a shifter can mistake. I can feel the bond all the way down in my bones."

Oh, Zev had been confused at first, sure. The feelings he had didn't make sense in the context of what he'd been taught. But no lessons, not even those that explained the very fabric of his kind's makeup, could override the single most important truth that coursed through Zev's body: the awareness of his true mate. So before he'd reached his second decade, Zev had already accepted the idea that he was gay, despite the fact that it went against everything his pack thought was natural or even possible.  
Zev looked at his Grandpa Hugh and Grandma Betty, imploring them to help. They were the only true mated pair in the family, and one of the few true mated pairs in the history of the pack. Surely they understood the power of the bond. It was absolute. Zev could no sooner satisfy the need to tie with his true mate by tying with another shifter than he could satisfy the need to breathe air by inhaling water.

Hugh squeezed Betty's hand and looked at his beloved grandson sympathetically.  
"If you have a true mate, Zev, then you have a duty to her. She needs you in order to release her wolf or she will lose her mind. What if you're abandoning your true mate, Zev? What if you haven't found her because you're not willing to keep an open mind about females?"  
Zev rolled his eyes, too frustrated to care that it was an incredibly childish and disrespectful gesture. He often wondered whether his family would believe he was gay if he told them he'd long known the identity of his true mate. Maybe then they'd stop writing off his refusal to sleep with shifter females as some stubborn philosophical exercise.

But no matter how much Zev loved and trusted his family, he wasn't willing to take that risk. Nobody would believe Zev if he identified Jonah as his mate, and the human would be perceived as a threat to the pack structure. The easiest way to eliminate that threat would be to eliminate the interloper. The basic principles of their kind were so ingrained, and so fundamentally based on the need for shifter males to tie with shifter females, that he feared harm could come to his  
mate if the pack knew the identity of the man destined to tie with their Alpha.

No, Zev couldn't risk his mate's safety. The only way for him to acknowledge Jonah's role in his life would be to first tie with him. Then the mating bond would be complete, and nobody would be able to dispute their relationship. Or his sexuality.

"If my mate were anywhere within ten miles of here, my senses would pick that up. Blind dates aren't how we find our true mates. But if you're so concerned that I'm abandoning my mate, I'll make you a deal. I promise to meet with whomever you want, on a platonic basis, to see if she's my mate, and in return you promise that when I do find my mate and make the tie, you'll support the mating in every way."

The relief in his parents and grandparents was palpable. All six of the tense bodies sitting around him relaxed, and smiles took over their faces. His sister squeezed his hand and winked at him. Zev was certain she'd known his mate's identity nearly as long as he had, though neither of them had ever spoken the words out loud.

"Of course we will, dear. A mating is a blessing." His mother's pretty face shone.  
"Even more so when it's for the Alpha, because it unveils the heart of our pack," his Grandpa Hugh added with a wistful look on his face.

Zev knew the older shifter was likely remembering his own mating, when Grandma Betty had joined him in leading the Etzgadol pack as the Alpha female. Of course, it'd be different with his mating. Lori was already the Alpha female, and Jonah clearly couldn't take that role. But there was no reason to point out those details now.  
"You and your mate will be supported by us and the entire pack." His father's deep baritone voice left no room for debate. It was certain and sure. A vow.  
Zev rose from the sofa, straightening all six feet seven inches and pulling back his broad shoulders.  
"Then we have a deal. I'll tie with my mate when the time comes, and you'll stand behind us. No matter who she"—he looked pointedly  
at the faces of the seven people he loved most in the world, other than the man missing from the room, of course—"or he is. Good night."

And with those words Zev turned and walked to the front door, ignoring the growls coming from behind him. They'd given him their word, and it would bring unforgivable dishonor on their ancestors to go back on that vow, so he knew his family would keep their promise. As for the rest of the pack, it'd be a challenge, a possibly insurmountable challenge, even with both past Alphas and the current Alpha standing together.

A tie between two males threatened to disrupt everything the pack had been taught about a female's connection to her human side and a male's connection to his wolf side. And, as if the idea of two males accomplishing a tie wouldn't be enough to cause widespread panic, Jonah wasn't just a male. He was a human—a half-soul—not a shifter. And everyone knew that a shifter couldn't tie with a half-soul.  
But when the time came, the pack could either stand with Zev or find new territory. The Etzgadol pack land had belonged to the Hassick family for ten generations. And with his grandparents, parents, and sister by his side, Zev was guaranteed that he'd be able to continue that legacy. Even if it meant doing it while building a new pack to lead. And Zev knew if that's what it'd take to be with Jonah Marvel, he'd do it without a second thought. He'd do whatever was needed to claim and keep his true mate.

Chapter 2  
"ZEV HASSICK, get back here right this instant!"  
Zev wagged his tail and raised his nose in the air. He was tracking the most wonderful scent. A combination of freshly mowed grass, lemons, and mint, the scent made his belly feel all warm and tingly inside. Zev trotted through the trees, barely noticing his surroundings. His entire being was focused on that scent. He wasn't sure how far he'd gone or how long he'd been running when he noticed he could no longer feel the crunch of leaves and the snap of twigs beneath his paws. He looked around and realized that the trees were gone. He stood at the edge of a clearing that faced a playground. Children were swinging and sliding, adults stood and talked, but what about that fresh, cool scent?  
Zev scanned the area with his eyes and nose until he isolated the spot. It was halfway across the clearing, next to a bench. Sitting on a red, white, and blue striped blanket was a human baby. Zev locked his gaze on that child and whined. He wanted to get closer, wanted to smell and lick. But there were so many humans around, and his parents had always told him to stay away from the half-souls, especially if he was in wolf form.

Zev raised his head and tried to howl in frustration, but his vocal cords were too new, too fresh to make that noise. He was just over a year old, and this was his first shift. It'd take some time yet before he'd completely adjust to his wolf body. Dropping to the ground on his belly  
and resting his chin on his front paws, Zev whimpered and kept his gaze locked on the human baby.  
He knew the humans couldn't see him where he lay, surrounded by brush and plants, but it sure seemed as if the baby knew he was there, because eyes as black as night were staring right back at Zev. Then, before he realized it was happening, the baby raised himself onto unsteady feet and began toddling toward him. With the grown-ups engaged in conversation, nobody noticed the little tyke, dressed in a blue one-piece cotton jumper and no shoes, making his way over to the trees. Zev hopped back to his feet and wagged his tail furiously, making soft yipping sounds as the source of the scent came closer and closer.

When the baby stepped out of the clearing and into the brush, Zev jumped on him and knocked him down on his backside. Deep black eyes opened wide in surprise, but the human didn't cry, he just reached his small hand out and petted Zev's fur. The wolf cub whined with joy and pressed himself against the human baby, licking his neck and rubbing against his body. Zev wanted to mark himself with that lemony scent. It smelled so good and right.  
Now that he was right next to the baby, Zev realized that what he'd thought was a bald head was actually covered with white-blond hair. Hair so fair and fine, it hadn't been visible from across the park. Zev tilted his head to one side and carefully appraised his new friend. He'd never come across a person with hair that white or eyes that black. It was an unexpected and intriguing combination. The human wrapped both arms around Zev's neck and squeezed him tight.  
"Jonah? Jonah, where are you?"

Panicked adult voices pierced the air. Zev looked toward the clearing and saw people frantically searching for his new friend. Jonah. That was the baby's name. Zev's tongue made a long swipe up Jonah's face, and the human giggled loudly.  
"There he is, Kevin! Look, over by the big tree."  
The humans were pointing toward them, and Zev knew it was time to go back to his den. If the adults got any closer, Jonah wouldn't  
be blocking their view and they'd see him. But Zev didn't want to go. He didn't want to leave Jonah.  
Half-souls aren't safe, Zev. Don't forget to stay away from them. The words he'd heard over and over again from his pack elders rang in his head. After one last lick and nuzzle to the human baby's neck, Zev turned and ran back through the trees.  
"WHY can't I go to that school, Mommy?"  
Zev pointed to the pink house with the brightly colored sign in front—Sunshine and Moonlight Nursery School. He longed to step through the doors, always had, but as usual, his mother sighed and answered his question without even turning her head.  
"Zev, lovey, I've already explained this to you. I realize the picture of the beautiful moon on that sign calls to your wolf, but that school is for half-souls. We need to stay with our own kind so you can learn the right things and shift and play. The half-souls don't understand the meaning of the moon, Zev; they just thought it'd make a pretty picture."  
Zev whimpered and sat back in his seat. He pressed his hand to the window as if that could somehow bring him closer to the white-haired boy playing inside that pink house. It wasn't the colorful sign that called to Zev's wolf. It was Jonah. The pink building was Jonah's school. Zev knew that because he'd tracked Jonah's scent to that place.  
It'd been three years since he'd seen Jonah in the half-souls' playground, and in that time, Zev had shifted and found Jonah's den and his school. He always had to stay just on the periphery, under the cover of trees, and he could never watch for long because his parents didn't like his wolf's tendency to wander. Of course, they'd like that tendency even less if they realized where Zev went when he wandered, but that didn't stop Zev. He had to track his human friend, had to know where Jonah slept and ate and played.  
Sometimes, when Zev was really lucky, Jonah would catch his eye and smile. On a few occasions, the little boy had even managed to  
sneak away from the adults and over to Zev. Jonah would immediately wrap his golden arms around Zev's neck and stroke his fur, and Zev would lick his friend, molding his body around the small human.  
Zev thought that if his mother would only send him to the Sunshine and Moonlight Nursery School then he'd get to talk to Jonah and play with him in his human form. He just knew they'd make the best of friends, even though Jonah was a half-soul.  
He furrowed his brow when he thought about the distaste in the elders' voices when they used that word. Even when the humans were customers in their shops, the pack only barely tolerated them. He knew his kind was supposed to distrust the half-souls, keep their distance, but Zev didn't understand why, and he just couldn't do that with Jonah. The white-haired boy was his. Zev's wolf knew it instinctively, and Zev's human agreed. Maybe when he grew bigger, he'd be able to find a way to play with his friend.  
ZEV looked up from the huddle and turned his head to the other side of the field. The group of humans wearing bright red jerseys were all listening intently to their coach. Well, all but one. Jonah's black eyes were aimed straight at Zev.  
This was the first time Jonah had seen Zev's human. The six years since his wolf had first met the blond boy had passed without Zev ever having had the opportunity to introduce himself to his friend in this form. But now the time had finally come. Both boys played soccer in the Etzgadol City League. They were on different teams, of course. Zev's team was all shifters. He was sure the pack would have forced them to play in an all-shifter league, if there were such a thing. But the shifter population didn't have enough boys in his age group to make up a whole league, so the pack formed its own team in the Etzgadol City League.  
When Zev had learned of the integrated league two years earlier, he'd immediately developed what his parents called an "almost maniacal obsession" with both soccer and baseball—not coincidentally, the two sports in the Etzgadol City League. He'd never bothered with  
other sports because he'd seen no point. The only reason to participate, as far as Zev was concerned, was the chance to play with his human friend.  
Zev's wolf had taken the brochure for the soccer league to Jonah months ago. At first, the human boy had seemed confused by the gesture. He'd just taken the paper out of the wolf's mouth and stuffed it into his pocket before commencing with their usual greeting—a hug from Jonah and licks from Zev.  
The second time Zev brought the information, Jonah had flipped through the brochure, looked into Zev's amber eyes, and asked in a hesitant voice, "You trying to tell me something, Pup?"  
The final time, Jonah had just laughed as he tackled Zev's wolf to the ground. "Okay, I got the message, Pup, I talked to my dad and he said I could play soccer."  
Zev was so happy he yipped and licked Jonah all over while they wrestled on the ground. He'd long since stopped being a puppy, at least in size. His human was much larger than other children his age and his wolf was the size of a full grown dog. He'd grow bigger in time, but even at his current size he was no pup. And although that word was a schoolyard taunt among his kind, he enjoyed hearing it from his Jonah. It sounded tender and sweet.  
After that day, whenever Zev came to visit Jonah, the boy snuck over to the woods at the edge of his yard and brought his soccer ball. "My dad bought me this ball. Wanna play?"  
Their games never lasted longer than ten minutes. Zev had to return to his den before his parents became too angry at the length of his absence, and Jonah had to go back to his yard before his father became too curious about what he was doing. But they had fun together, with Jonah kicking and Zev blocking the ball with his head and tackling the boy with nonregulation moves that always caused giggles and rewarded him with hugs and strokes of his fur. Now Zev's human was standing on a soccer field with three minutes left in the game, during which, for the first time, he had been able to look at his Jonah through human eyes.  
Zev's team, the Fury, had been undefeated all season. Shifters were generally stronger than humans, even as children, so one of the two shifter teams had always been league champion. The games against human teams were really just warm-ups for the main event: a shifter versus shifter playoff. But it was different against this human team. The Storm had beaten every other human team all season long and had come close to defeating the other shifter team. After being with Jonah on the field for nearly fifty minutes, Zev and every other player on his team understood the reason for the human team's success: Jonah was an incredible player.  
The blond boy guarded his goal with a speed and agility normally reserved for shifters. His coal-colored eyes scanned the field, taking note of every player's location, and he always found a way to place his body in the perfect position to block goals. Jonah was such a skilled player, in fact, that the only two goals scored by the Fury had taken place when Jonah was on the sidelines resting and another player stood in the goal. Zev had scored both of those goals.  
"We're only up one point, guys. It's time to get serious with these mutts."  
Zev growled low in his throat when he heard his teammate, Brian Delgato, make the insult. He never liked hearing his pack insult the humans, but with Jonah on the receiving end of the taunt, Zev's hackles were truly up. The other shifter boys were so focused on the game, they didn't realize Zev's anger was aimed at one of their own rather than at the opposing team.  
Brian, Zev, and Toby took the ball up the field as the clock counted down. Toby passed to Brian, and he made a final effort to score a goal. Even with his eyes locked on Zev, Jonah was able to jump to his left and deflect the shot. The whistle blew and Brian stomped off the field. The rest of Zev's team ran over to the sidelines, happy with their victory, even if the score was tighter than they would have liked. A few boys on Jonah's team wiped tears from their eyes, sad their season had ended. Jonah and Zev remained on the field, watching each other from their respective spots ten feet apart.  
Zev's heart felt like it was beating out of his chest. He'd never questioned his reaction to Jonah. He'd been lured to the human for as  
long as he could remember, so it seemed as normal to Zev as running and eating. But now that he was seven years old, he was starting to realize that his draw to the boy was unusual, and not just because Jonah was a human. Even other shifters didn't seem to need each other in the way Zev's whole being told him he needed Jonah.  
"My name's Jonah. What's your name?"  
That voice, which Zev had heard giggle with his wolf for years, was finally speaking to his human. As if pulled by a magnetic force, Zev stepped toward the other boy. Jonah flipped his white-blond hair off his face and met Zev halfway. When they were close enough to feel each other's breath, Zev answered.  
"I'm Zev."  
Jonah's black eyes looked intently at Zev's brown hair, streaked with mahogany and auburn highlights, and at his amber eyes. Zev cocked his head to the side and stood perfectly still, allowing Jonah to appraise him. His own instincts caused him to want to lean forward and smell the boy, circle around him in greeting, and maybe even lick him. But even at his young age, Zev already knew that type of behavior wasn't welcome or understood by humans, not when he was in his human form. Zev's wolf, of course, had always behaved in exactly that manner with Jonah.  
"You're my friend. Right, Zev?"  
No statement uttered anywhere had ever been more true.  
"Yes, I am." Zev nodded earnestly.  
Jonah smiled and took the brown-haired boy's hand. "Wanna meet my daddy?"  
Pleased all the way down to his toes with the contact, Zev wrapped his fingers around the human's and let himself get tugged toward the adults on the sidelines. In a few years, they'd be too old to touch this way. But for now, Zev noticed the humans didn't think there was anything unusual about two little boys holding hands, and he was willing to put up with reminders he knew would come from his elders about how important it was to keep a distance from half-souls.  
Chapter 3  
ZEV walked out of his parents' house and over to his truck, dropped his head against the door, and took in a deep breath, letting the fresh air cool his lungs. Standing up to his family once again and garnering their support for his future mating was all well and good, but none of it meant a thing if his mate didn't return and accept his place in the pack beside Zev. If Jonah didn't come home soon, Zev wasn't sure whether there'd be a Hassick male available to lead the Etzgadol pack.  
He looked up at the sky. The stars were beautiful out here. They sparkled above him, showing the spirits of those who came before. Come back to me, Jonah. Our spirits are intertwined, and my body cannot endure without its other half for much longer.  
He felt the pain deep in his bones, the urge to shift and run. But he pushed it back, grateful that, at least for now, his human could still exert his will. His wolf was tired of waiting for his human to find their mate and the wolf wanted control of their form so he could go find Jonah and claim him. But their mate was long gone, well out of scent distance, and the chance of Zev's wolf finding him before running into hunters or vehicles was slim.  
Zev knew that unless he claimed his mate the time was fast approaching when his human would no longer be able to control his wolf. When that happened, the fear driving the intervention his family had staged that night would become a reality: Zev's human would be forever lost. And without his human's wisdom to limit him, Zev's wolf would likely end his life trying to find his mate.  
"PLEASE, Dad. Other pack cubs my age are starting at the Etzgadol Middle School this year too." Twelve-year-old Zev Hassick pleaded with his father, desperately hoping he could convince the man that his only son wasn't too young to leave the shifter school and become exposed to humans on a daily basis.  
"Zev, we've gone over this. There are very few shifters who send their kids to the city school until high school, and the ones who do are, um, activists."  
Zev was losing this argument. Again. And he didn't have any more time. School would start next week, and this was his last chance to convince his parents to let him transfer from the pack school to the Etzgadol Middle School. It was the only hope he had of spending eight hours a day with his Jonah.  
"Toby's going to the city school, Dad, and he comes from a good family. You've known Mr. Harrison since you were a cub."  
"Yes, I've known Tobias's father for many moons, and Jeremiah's a good man. But his mother… well, Leah's… unusual, Zev. She's not from these parts. You know Jeremiah met her when he was away studying and being hosted by the Miancarem pack."  
Zev refused to back down. He kept his posture straight, his head raised, and his eyes on his father's face. He didn't like the way his father and the other pack males disregarded Mrs. Harrison. For that matter, he didn't like the way they seemed to dismiss the importance of all the women in the pack.  
"Mrs. Harrison is a strong wolf, Dad. She was very well respected in her old pack, and they were devastated when she left. Toby told me that when they go visit his grandparents, the Miancarem females still come to greet his mother and beg her to return."  
Gregory Hassick folded his newspaper and set it down next to him on the couch. He tilted his head to the side and appraised his son. Zev knew what his dad was thinking. How many times had he been told that he was different, different from other shifters his age, different from any shifter his father had ever known?  
Even as a very young child, Zev remembered hearing his parents say that he had found his wolf more frequently and for a longer duration than they had previously thought possible. Most shifters didn't make the change until they'd been in their human skin for at least five years, but Zev had spontaneously shifted not long after his first birthday. Even when they started shifting, young boys rarely managed to maintain their wolf form for longer than a few minutes, but Zev shifted for hours at a time. Not only that, but the discomfort associated with bones moving and reshaping never seemed to plague Zev. His parents seemed proud of Zev's unique nature when it came to strength in shifting. He'd often heard his mother brag to her friends that her boy was such a strong shifter that he needed space to run, and his father would usually follow those statements up with assertions about what a wonderful leader his son would make someday. But despite all the praise, Zev recognized his parents' concern about what they perceived as his tendency to wander.  
Shifters were social animals, always keeping close together, playing, eating, and sleeping with their pack. Zev was popular with his peers and adored by his elders, so his parents didn't understand why he often wandered off alone, changing into his wolf skin and disappearing into the woods. What his parents didn't realize, what he always kept hidden, was that he didn't leave to be alone. He left to go play with Jonah.  
Deciding to focus on what he knew mattered most to his father—Zev's destiny to lead his pack—he gave one final shot at his attempt to attend the human school.  
"The city school is bigger than the pack school, Dad, at least twice the size. Their teachers are younger; they understand technology and have a better grasp of the outside world. Things aren't like they were when you were my age. I'll need to learn all sorts of new things in order to be a good Alpha and to run the ceramics business."  
Zev immediately saw the change in his father's expression. It was as if he'd finally heard a logical reason to allow his son to attend a school filled with half-souls. Zev was the latest in a long line of Hassick Alphas. Their family had produced the strongest males in the pack for generations, and it hadn't escaped Zev's notice that his father was pleased to have sired not only the future male Alpha, as was clear  
from Zev's display of strength since his early days, but also, it seemed, the future female Alpha. Zev's twin Lori was developing into a strong young female, a leader among her peers. It was unusual, but not unheard of, to have sibling Alphas, and the honor associated with this accomplishment overrode any potential issues from the pack's Alphas not tying with each other.  
"Okay, Zev. We'll try it. I do agree that the elders teaching at the pack school are quite far removed from all the changes taking place in the world. And it will be important for the Etzgadol pack to have leaders who are ahead of the pack." Gregory laughed at his own joke.  
Zev's wolf was practically bouncing with joy, but his human managed to portray a happy but not overly enthusiastic exterior. He couldn't let his father know how fundamentally important that decision had been. After all, nobody could ever know about Zev's attachment to a human. He got up from the couch and walked over to his father, giving the big man a loose hug.  
"Thanks, Dad." Carefully calculating his next move so it'd seem unrehearsed, Zev turned toward the hallway, then looked back over his shoulder at his father. "And don't worry; I'll keep a close eye on Lori."  
Gregory's eyes widened, and Zev knew his father hadn't considered Lori's attendance at the human school. It's not that Gregory would intentionally treat his children inequitably, but Lori was a female and therefore he automatically considered her vulnerable. Plus, no elder thought females had a need to learn the more modern methods they taught at the city school because those teachings wouldn't help a female run a den one day.  
Zev stood still and let his father process the situation, hoping the desire to keep Lori with Zev would be enough to sway things in his direction. After all, besides being litter mates and friends, Zev and Lori would one day need to lead the pack as a unified team, so encouraging their close relationship would help the greater good. Plus, Gregory had every reason to trust that Zev would take care of his sister.  
Gregory grunted his acquiescence and picked his newspaper back up. Zev hurried down the hallway, closed his bedroom door, and collapsed onto his bed, a radiant smile on his face.  
"Come on in, sis, I know you're waiting in there."  
Lori opened the door of the Jack-and-Jill bathroom that connected their rooms.  
"Well?"  
"He said I could go."  
She sighed and glared at her brother. "Of course he said you could go, Zev. You can be incredibly persuasive, and if he'd said no, you'd have probably managed a jailbreak. But what about me? Can I go to the city school too?" Lori bit her lip and shifted from foot to foot, her anxiety apparent. So much so that Zev felt bad about teasing his sister.  
"Yes, you're coming too, Lori. Go call Toby and give him the good news."  
Lori squeaked and jumped on top of her brother, giving him a big hug. Then she ran through the bathroom into her bedroom. Zev figured she'd be talking with Toby for hours. He was Zev's closest shifter friend, and it was only a matter of time before he became Lori's boyfriend.  
Zev wished he could call Jonah and tell him the good news, but his human didn't have that kind of relationship with the other boy yet. They'd been playing sports in the same league for several years, and it hadn't escaped Zev's notice that he wasn't the only one who made sure to arrive excessively early to every game his team had against Jonah's. The two boys used that time to run around together, playing and laughing. Zev's heart soared when it seemed that Jonah enjoyed the time he spent with Zev's human as much as that he spent with Zev's wolf. For reasons Zev wasn't yet capable of understanding, he needed Jonah to like both parts of him.  
Although Zev's human couldn't call Jonah on the phone, Zev could still share his joy about going to Jonah's school. He'd just have to do it in wolf form. Zev opened his bedroom window and shifted so quickly that his clothes dropped to the floor without ripping. It was a handy trick and one he'd never seen another shifter accomplish or allowed another shifter to witness. Then Zev jumped out his bedroom window and ran through the woods, hopeful that Jonah would be playing outside or looking out his window so Zev's wolf could celebrate with his human.


	5. Chapter 5

"WHERE'S Jonah?" Toby asked Zev as he peeled off his black lightweight sweater.  
The two young men stood in the high school locker room changing into their running shorts and T-shirts. After three years of middle school together, Zev and Jonah had become close friends, and Toby also spent a considerable amount of time with them. When he wasn't with Lori, that is.  
It was their first week of high school and it'd already been difficult. Only a handful of shifter families had sent their young to the city middle school, and those families generally did so because they believed in integrating their lives with the humans'. Those particular shifter kids had been taught acceptance at home from a young age and had been easily able to blend in with the human kids. As a result, their differences weren't noticed and never caused issues.  
Within ten minutes of walking into the Etzgadol High School, however, Zev knew this experience would be markedly different. The pack didn't have its own high school—there weren't enough youth in each grade to create the separate classes needed for teens—so the pack middle school, along with the other two middle schools in town, fed into the city high school. Despite being in the same building with humans, pack kids stuck together and made no effort to assimilate.  
When Zev, Toby, and Lori had walked in the door on that first day, they'd seen the pack friends they'd grown up with clustered  
together. The humans with whom they'd spent their middle school years stood apart, looking at the kids they didn't know in confusion. Within a matter of days, all the older human kids had sent the message to the younger ones—stay away from the kids in the pack. Not that they called them "pack," of course. Some said they all belonged to a cult, others said they were part of a weird religious sect. But everyone understood the basic principles: they're different, they're not like us, don't talk to them, don't study with them, keep apart. Depending on whether a pack kid or a city kid was talking, the "they" and the "them" would interchange, but the meaning always stayed the same: shifters and humans don't mix.  
Zev looked at the clock on the wall. Track practice was about to start and Jonah wasn't there, which was very out of character. The human hadn't missed a single day of school or practice throughout their middle school years. And he'd seemed fine in the sixth-period English class he shared with Zev.  
"Hey! You're not supposed to be in here!"  
A commotion coming from the front of the locker room disrupted Zev's thoughts. Then he heard his sister's panicked voice.  
"Whatever. I'm not here to look at you, okay? I'm looking for Zev Hassick and Toby Harrison. Have you seen them?"  
Toby pulled the jeans he'd lowered to his knees back up and practically tripped over himself hurrying toward Lori.  
"Lori? We're right here. What's wrong?"  
Zev joined his friend and carefully looked his sister over. She didn't seem injured, just scared and winded.  
"It's Jonah."  
Zev's stomach dropped. He clasped Lori's shoulders.  
"What about Jonah? Where is he?"  
Lori's shoulders slumped and her hands dropped to her knees; she was gasping for air.  
"He's in the back of the school, Zev. You have to hurry. They had him surrounded and they wouldn't listen to me." She straightened herself and locked her eyes with her brother's. "Hurry!"  
Zev leaped over the benches and ran out of the locker room at full speed. Thankfully, he'd already dressed in his shorts and tied his shoes before Lori had arrived, otherwise he'd have run through the school naked to get to Jonah. His heightened hearing allowed him to get an idea of the problem before he was close enough to intervene. Brian Delgato and two other shifter teens were yelling at Jonah.  
"We warned you to stay away from her! She's not for you, understand? Since you're obviously too stupid to listen to reason, we have no choice but to show you what happens to people who don't do what they're told."  
Zev's heart thumped wildly, and he somehow managed to increase his speed, running faster than he'd ever previously managed. Jonah was a big kid, almost as big as Zev. And he was strong. But shifters were stronger than humans, even when wearing their human skins. And with three of them surrounding Jonah, he didn't stand a chance. Hell, even very few shifters would manage to come out victorious against those odds.  
The sounds of fists hitting bodies intermingled with shouting ratcheted Zev's anxiety even higher. Just as he was about to turn the corner, the noise stopped. That unexpected silence increased the fear that racked Zev's body to such high proportions that he thought he might vomit.  
"Get away from…."  
Zev's warning stuck in his throat as he finally managed to get around the edge of the building to survey the scene in front of him. Brian was lying on the ground, cradling his arm. A shifter who was two years older than Zev was flat on his back with his eyes closed. The third shifter who'd threatened Jonah was holding his nose, trying to block the blood that poured out from between his fingers. And in the center of the damage stood Jonah, his fists clenched, face sweaty, blond hair disheveled, and expression fierce.  
"Jonah? Are you okay?" Zev approached his friend slowly with his hand held out, palm up.  
Jonah's black eyes widened as he seemed to notice what he'd done for the first time. He stepped toward Zev and then froze when more shifter boys came out of the school, saw their wounded comrades, and realized a human was responsible. They stormed toward Jonah.  
"Hey! What'd you do? Get him!"  
Zev completed the few steps necessary to reach Jonah. He stood in front of his friend, blocking the group of shifters, then curled his lips back over his teeth and growled low in his throat. The newly approaching boys hesitated, bumping into each other in their haste to stop in the face of the boy everyone knew would one day lead their pack.  
Two of the shifters on the ground scrambled to their feet, while the third tried to rise, but swayed and landed back on his ass.  
"He fought by your side. That means you help him up when he falls," Zev growled. As angry as he was at the threat to Jonah, he couldn't ignore his need to lead and teach his pack members. He wasn't their Alpha yet, but the instincts were deeply ingrained.  
Brian quickly knelt down and lent support to the boy on the ground. When they were on their feet, they backed up to join the other pack kids.  
"Zev, he hurt our own." Conrad, a strong shifter in his final year of high school, met Zev's eyes but kept his head slightly lowered as a sign of respect. Clearly, he wasn't sure how to deal with the Alpha's son defending a human who seemed to have attacked three pack members.  
"They instigated it!" Lori's voice was frazzled and unusually high-pitched.  
Zev didn't turn around, keeping his eyes on those who threatened his human friend. Within moments Lori and Toby were by his side.  
"What happened, Lori?"  
The surprise on the other shifters' faces was evident when Zev asked Lori to weigh in. During a standoff between males, a female shouldn't even be in the area, let alone consulted for her opinion.  
Finally able to calm down now that the immediate danger had passed, Lori regained her composure. When she spoke again, it was with the strength of a young woman destined to lead the females in their pack.  
"Brian and the others have the same lunch hour as me and Jonah. They weren't happy that I ate with him instead of them. So they waited for us to leave the building after school ended, and then they went after him." Her eyes blazed with anger as she turned toward Brian and looked at him accusingly. "Even after I told them to stop."  
Zev growled, his body vibrating with the need to shift and punish those who had disrespected his kin and threatened the person who meant more to him than any other. The realization of just how much he cared about Jonah startled Zev, but it didn't slow him down.  
"Stay here," he rumbled.  
Lori and Toby complied instinctively, locking their feet in place and staring down the group of shifters, who had backed away far enough to put a comfortable distance between them.  
"What do you think you're doing, Zev?" Jonah seemed to have finally snapped out of his daze. His hand landed on Zev's shoulder, holding him back.  
"I'm going to take care of this so they never bother you again, that's what." Zev tried to move forward, but Jonah's grip was surprisingly strong.  
"Did you happen to notice that I took care of myself just fine? I'm not some damsel in distress you need to rescue, Hassick. I can hold my own. Besides, I don't remember asking for your help."  
Lori noticeably winced in reaction to Jonah's words and tone. He was questioning Zev's decisions, his leadership, his right to manage a situation involving his pack. But instead of punishing the human, or demonstrating his superior strength so Jonah would back off, Zev turned around to face his friend, his posture relaxing, head tilted to the side, and his voice soft.  
"I saw what you did, Jonah, and I'm impressed. More than impressed. But I'm asking you to let me handle this. Those guys who  
attacked you, and the other ones over there, I've known them my whole life. They're… family friends. Will you please wait here while I talk to them?"  
Toby's jaw dropped in surprise at Zev's reaction. Yeah, Zev realized his method of interacting with Jonah was unusual. After all, a stronger shifter never asked another for permission on how to act, let alone a human. Even Lori, who was well accustomed to her brother's idiosyncrasies, gasped at the quiet, placating tone Zev used when he spoke to Jonah.  
Jonah's concern that his friend thought of him as weak or incapable of handling the situation dissipated in response to Zev's voice and posture. He nodded and relaxed his hands at his sides.  
The bloody, swollen knuckles didn't escape Zev's notice, and he had to stifle down an almost overwhelming urge to take Jonah's hands in his and lick the wounds until they healed. Pushing down the growl that wanted to escape in reaction to Jonah's injuries, Zev turned and stalked over to his pack mates. He looked only at Conrad, the oldest, strongest member of the spontaneously formed group, and spoke in a low rumble.  
"They picked a fight with a human on school grounds in broad daylight. We don't need this kind of attention. It's bad for the pack."  
Conrad nodded in agreement and turned to the three shifters who had been involved in the fight. Two of the boys stood with their heads arched to the side, throats exposed, and limbs loose, showing their submission in every way they knew how. Only Brian kept his head up and dared to smirk at Zev. Conrad growled at the stupidity the shifter was exhibiting. No matter what had led to the fight, there was no doubt Zev could take Brian down without breaking a sweat. Everyone in the pack knew of the presumptive Alpha's strength. Conrad glared at Brian.  
"Explain yourself," he said in a harsh voice.  
Brian crossed his arms and continued to stare at Zev defiantly, causing his coconspirators to step back, hoping to distance themselves from their disrespectful friend. "He's been eating lunch with your sister all week, Zev, even after we told him to stay away from her. Girls are  
weak; we have a duty to protect them. You should be thanking us for trying to keep that half-soul away from Lori."  
Zev growled as loud as he could in his human skin. He curled his lips back over his teeth, pulled his shoulders back, and straightened his posture so that his height seemed even more imposing. When he towered over Brian, he spoke very quietly, barely containing his rage.  
"My sister is the strongest female in the pack. She's capable of speaking her own mind and she told you not to interfere. Even if you thought she needed help, you shouldn't have instigated a fight with a human. The right action would have been to speak with me or my father. We're responsible for the females in our den, not you, Brian."  
The boys who had participated in the fight all but dropped to the ground. They whimpered, expressing their regret. Brian also lowered his chin, but Zev knew the other boy did it grudgingly.  
"You've never interacted with the humans, so I'm going to chalk this up to a learning experience and I won't mention it to my father or the other pack elders."  
Zev finished speaking to Brian and his two friends, then looked over at Conrad, who, despite having stepped into the situation at the last minute and therefore been innocent of any involvement in the fight, had his head lowered and his eyes pointing downward.  
"And Conrad, I don't know what went on at this school before I came, but this animosity toward humans stops now. I can't force you to be friends with them, but I will demand civility. If I hear of any pack members fighting with humans, I will step in. And the next time, it won't end on school grounds. Any shifter who exposes our pack to unflattering attention by fighting with our human schoolmates will be facing my wolf under the full moon."  
Zev looked at every boy and made sure his threat had sunk in. The frightened expressions, exposed throats, and slight twitches let him know he had made the intended impression.  
"Spread the word around," he finished before returning to his place at Jonah's side.  
Chapter 5  
THE black truck rumbled over the dirt and rock road, weaving through the trees and taking Zev from the family intervention at his childhood den to the place he'd been calling home for more than a decade. It was unusual for a shifter to live alone. His peers had remained in their parents' dens until they'd found a chosen partner, and then they'd built new dens together, with cubs often following shortly thereafter. But Zev had moved out of the family home when he was eighteen, hoping a little distance would help curb his frustration over his family's refusal to acknowledge the possibility that he could have a male mate.  
The Etzgadol pack land encompassed thousands of acres abutting a national forest. In addition to being a place where the entire pack could run, the forest held the Hassick family ceramics business and the homes for his direct line. Every member of his family had equal rights to that land, so nobody could stop Zev from claiming a portion and setting up house. What his parents could and did do, however, was cut him off financially.  
They hadn't understood his desire to live alone; "unnatural" was what they'd called it. It might have been more meaningful if they hadn't also used the word to describe his feelings when he told them he was gay. After all, his true mate was male and what could be more natural than the mating bond?  
In any event, Zev's parents had hoped to keep him in their den by withholding funds, but he had taken his tent, pitched it, and lived in the  
woods. He'd started working for the family business by then, so he'd lived off the land and saved almost every dollar he'd made until he had enough money in the bank to build a home, the home he planned to someday share with his mate.  
Zev had been too young to tie back then. Oh, he was physically able, but shifters rarely tied until they were in their second decade. So his wolf should have been satisfied to play and hunt, like his peers. But his wolf wasn't satisfied and neither was his human. In fact, Zev hadn't felt at peace since he was eighteen. Because that was the year he'd lost Jonah.  
"YOU'RE our class salutatorian, Zev. College should be a given. I don't understand why you're not going." Jonah repeated the same words he'd said dozens of times during their senior year.  
Zev elbowed Jonah and laughed.  
"If I didn't know better, Blondie, I'd say that little comment was just an excuse for you to once again point out your higher grade point average. Even though it's only higher by two hundredths of a point."  
"Oh, I don't need any excuses to point out my outrageous and advanced awesomeness. My grades are better than yours, I scored more home runs this year, and you couldn't block a ball from the goal if your life depended on it. Bottom line, dude, I'm superior."  
Zev laughed and reached into the bag of chips on his lap. He took out a handful, throwing them at Jonah one-by-one as he spoke. "I pitched more perfect games than any kid in the history of our school. Ditto for my score average in soccer, Mr. Hides-in-the-Goal. Plus, I have a bigger dick."  
"Oh, such violence! Not sure if I can handle it. Save me! Save me!" Jonah yelled and laughed as he protected his face from the onslaught of chips with his hands and swayed on his feet.  
Zev dropped the chip bag and tackled Jonah onto the bed, landing on top of him. The two friends were pressed together, their bodies  
connected from ankle to thigh to chest. Somehow, lying down that way made Zev's lungs work harder than when he'd been jumping around Jonah's bedroom. Zev's amber eyes locked onto Jonah's intense black gaze. What was it about this person that impacted him so deeply?  
"You weren't kidding about that last one, were you?" Jonah asked breathlessly, and Zev realized that the close physical contact had caused his cock to harden against his friend's hip.  
He knew that he should get up, that the feelings coursing through his body were wrong. But being close to Jonah didn't feel wrong. In fact, for as long as Zev could remember, he'd felt most right in his life whenever his human or his wolf was with Jonah. And that moment, lying together on Jonah's bed, was no exception.  
"What is this, Jonah?" Zev asked, his voice sounding rough and uncertain to his own ears. He was sure his confusion—hell, his fear—was evident by his expression. Jonah knew him too well to miss that. And even if he didn't, lying as close together as they were, Jonah was surely able to feel Zev's racing heart.  
Jonah reached up and brushed Zev's brown locks off his forehead, the expression on his face tender.  
"We're done with high school now, Zev. I'm leaving for college in two days. I'm tired of pretending." Jonah took a deep breath before continuing. "This is attraction," he finished softly.  
Fright turned to terror as Zev's eyes widened, and he shook his head furiously.  
"No, that can't be. I can't feel that way about you. It's not possible."  
Despite his panic, Zev was still hard, and he'd made no move to separate their bodies. But Jonah didn't mention that. Instead, he continued stroking Zev's hair and spoke softly, as if he were calming a wild animal.  
"Why can't you be attracted to me, Zev? Or is it that you think you shouldn't feel the way you do about guys in general?"  
Zev's head swam. How did he feel about guys in general? He let the thought take root and reflected on it. He didn't feel anything in particular about guys; he never thought about them. Well, except for Jonah. He always thought about Jonah.  
"I don't have a thing for guys in general. I swear." He knew his tone sounded desperate, but he couldn't help it. It was how he felt.  
Jonah kept his caress constant, motivating Zev to press his face toward the welcome contact. He sniffed the palm of Jonah's hand, and the familiar scent both excited and calmed him. Why did he always react that way to Jonah's scent?  
"So you're saying you like girls, Zev? As far as I know, you've never had a girlfriend or even a date."  
Jonah's words stunned Zev, not that they should have been a revelation. After all, Zev was fully aware of his own dating history. Or lack thereof. It was just that he'd never given it any thought. How did he feel about girls? Zev thought about it and came to the same conclusion as he had about guys—he didn't think about them. He shook his head again, his entire body trembling as he came dangerously close to a dawning realization.  
"I don't like girls either. I mean, I like them, you know. Just not like that."  
Jonah smiled sweetly.  
"Zev, you're an eighteen-year-old guy. You can't possibly expect me to believe that you're asexual or something. You must have those feelings. You don't have to pretend with me. I'm your friend. Your best friend. You're safe with me, Zev. No matter what you tell me about yourself, I won't judge you. Hell, I might even surprise you with some things about the way I'm made."  
Although Zev knew Jonah was talking about his own desires, the statement had highlighted the crux of the problem. Zev was a shifter. He couldn't be attracted to another male. His kind wasn't made that way.  
"I have to go." Zev scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting around the room as if he were a caged animal, then he flung himself at the door, yanked it open, and ran out.  
Jonah remained reclined on the bed, watching his friend's panic attack and sudden departure. When he heard the front door open and then slam shut, Jonah covered his eyes with his forearm.  
"That went well," he whispered sarcastically to himself.  
ZEV ran through the woods, his normal grace replaced by wild, frantic movements. Twigs and leaves crumbled under his feet and branches slapped across his face and forearms, leaving cuts and welts in their wake. Shifters healed rapidly, but that didn't mean injuries didn't hurt. Nevertheless, in his immensely agitated state, Zev couldn't feel any external pain. Every ounce of mental power he had was focused on his conversation with Jonah, on the way his heart raced when he was with his best friend, on the delicious scent of the young man, on the word Jonah had used to describe all of those feelings: attraction.  
Zev reached his house and pushed his way inside. He stumbled toward his bedroom, dragging air into his lungs.  
"Zev? Honey, is that you?"  
The sound of his mother's warm voice drifting over from the kitchen forced Zev to get himself under control. He slowed his pace but kept walking toward his room.  
"Yeah, it's me, Mama. I need to go for a run. I'm going to leave my clothes in my room, and then I'll get going."  
Zev had reached his doorway by the time she responded. Based on the volume of her voice, he knew she was right behind him.  
"What about dinner, Zev? You must be hungry."  
He walked into his room and stripped off his shirt, keeping his back turned to her. When he was alone, he allowed his wolf to take over so quickly that undressing wasn't necessary because the clothes  
fell easily to the wayside. But with his mother present, Zev forced himself to slowly undress. He wasn't ready to explain his ability to shift more quickly than others. His parents already knew he was different, stronger than the other shifters. They didn't need to know all the details.  
"I'll hunt something for dinner, Mama. I need to clear my head, my wolf needs to roam."  
She hesitated, aware of her son's unusual penchant for running on his own, then relented.  
"I understand, dear. You go have a nice run and hunt. Stay out as long as your wolf demands."  
Zev's clothes were in a pile by the window by the time his mother had finished her sentence, and then he was outside, letting his animal control his impulses and desires. He was certain that shifting into his wolf would solve the dilemma that had been plaguing his human. After all, his beast was more primal than his man; he worked on instinct rather than logic. But much like his human, Zev's wolf insisted that he was attracted to Jonah.  
It was as if Jonah's act of speaking the words out loud had knocked down the walls. Zev's conscious knowledge of this now obvious attraction was no longer blocked. He couldn't continue to hide or pretend he didn't know. How was this possible? How could he be attracted to a male human—two factors that would prevent him from tying and should therefore repel him, or at the very least his wolf?  
He caught a rabbit for dinner, climbed the highest peak in the forest, and howled at the moon in frustration. As if the attraction to his best friend wasn't confusing enough on its own, it wasn't the only thing the conversation with Jonah had brought to the forefront of Zev's mind. The other realization now consuming the young shifter was that he'd never been attracted to anybody other than Jonah in his entire life.  
It didn't make sense. Shifters were, if anything, more sexual than humans. His peers had long been sexually active within the pack. In fact, the only time Zev had ever heard of a shifter having such a limited attraction was when…. Zev's wolf sucked in a deep breath as shock radiated through his muscular body. The only time he'd ever heard of a  
shifter being attracted to only one other was when that shifter had a true mate. And in that circumstance, the shifter would never want anyone other than his true mate because that shifter's spirit was already bound with that of his mate, and he could never tie with another.  
Jonah was Zev's true mate.  
He waited for his wolf to brush off the thought, but instead all he felt was a deep sense of peace fall over his body, as if he'd been tense his entire life just waiting for that truth to make itself known. Zev didn't understand how it was possible; it was completely inconsistent with everything he'd been taught. Yet, no matter how illogical the realization, in his wolf form Zev couldn't deny it. His wolf was all primal feeling, and the only thing he felt was the absolute truth, the undeniable fact that the human whose scent had called to him seventeen years earlier and had inspired his first shift, his best friend, the only person to whom his body had ever responded on any level, was his mate. Jonah Marvel was Zev's true mate.  
Chapter 6  
BEFORE his mind could process what his body was doing, the brown wolf, larger than many twice his age, was weaving through trees at a breakneck speed. He had to be with his mate, at that very moment and for every other moment in time. When he finally had Jonah's house in sight, Zev froze. He'd never gone further than the edge of the clearing in his wolf form, knowing it wasn't safe to risk exposure to humans. But it was the middle of the night, so Jonah wasn't outside and wouldn't see him unless he got closer to the house. Zev needed his mate. With that overpowering force driving him, Zev's wolf stalked closer to the house just as Jonah's bedroom window opened.  
"Zev? Is that you?" A sleepy whisper sounded out from the window.  
Like a puppy receiving the most delicious bone possible, Zev's wolf bounded over to Jonah, jumping up and resting his large paws on the windowsill. The young man laughed, reached his hand out, and stroked Zev's thick coat.  
"Oh, it's you, Pup. I thought I heard my friend out here."  
Zev tilted his head to the side and looked at Jonah, really looked at him. The young man couldn't have heard anything. The window had been shut, and Zev had barely made a sound. Even a shifter wouldn't have been able to hear him approach.  
As Zev pondered the situation, he remembered other times over the past seventeen years when his wolf had visited Jonah. Sure, there  
were instances when Jonah had been outside playing. But those days were by far the minority. Usually, Zev's wolf would sit for a few minutes and Jonah would come out, always delighted to see him.  
The shifter wondered whether the human even realized why he had been drawn outside. No, he couldn't know. Zev hadn't recognized it until that very moment, and he was a shifter, familiar with their history, well-versed in their powers and, as it turned out, personally acquainted with the internal call between mates. He was certain Jonah had felt more than heard him—that Jonah could sense the call too. It was likely that the mate's call had led Jonah out to his yard over the years when Zev's wolf had come to visit.  
Zev pushed his muzzle against Jonah's hand and whimpered, his amber eyes locking on the black orbs shining from the beloved face above him. Let me in, Jonah. I need to be with you.  
Jonah's brow furrowed in confusion. He backed away a step and patted the sill.  
"Do you want to come in, Pup?"  
Had his mate heard his thoughts? True mates sometimes shared a mental link. But Zev had been taught that this rare gift presented itself, if at all, only after the mates had been trying for many moons. Like most aspects of the mating bond, the connections were cumulative, strengthening and growing over time. With each tie, mates grew closer together, so close that some true mates had been said to hear each other's unspoken thoughts. Not possible. Jonah couldn't have heard me. It was a coincidence.  
Whatever the impetus for the invitation, Zev intended to take it. He backed up from the window and pushed off the ground, leaping into the air, above the sill, and landing smack dab against Jonah, who stumbled backward and crumpled to the floor. And just like that, Zev found himself in the same position he'd been earlier that day, his body covering his best friend's, his eyes looking down at Jonah's, and, yes, his dick hard as a rock from the close proximity to this man, from the touch of his hands stroking Zev's fur, from his stimulating scent. Zev wanted Jonah like he'd never wanted anything else in his life. The need was so strong it made his bones ache.  
The human buried within the wolf's skin exerted every ounce of control he had and forced his wolf to move back, lest he frighten his best friend. Zev raised himself off Jonah on shaky legs and backed away into the corner. He rolled himself into a ball and whimpered quietly. He hurt. Every nerve ending in his body wanted to touch Jonah. He needed to claim his mate, but he couldn't because Jonah was male and human. Zev had never known pain as intense as that which coursed through him as a result of the denied need to be with his mate, to tie together and join with him in all ways possible.  
"What's wrong, Pup?" Jonah approached Zev with his hand out, palm up. He squatted down by the huge wolf and looked at him with concern. "Are you sick?"  
Jonah's position brought his crotch dangerously close to Zev's face. The young man's enticing scent was strongest in that part of his body, and Zev couldn't stop himself from raising his head and resting it in Jonah's lap, sniffing at him and burrowing as close as he could through the protective barrier of his mate's pajama pants. He rolled onto his stomach, hiding an arousal that he knew would frighten and repulse the human, but kept his head in place on Jonah's thigh with his nose close to Jonah's sex.  
With his mate near, he could feel Jonah's heat, smell Jonah's scent. They were together. It was enough. It had to be enough. For now. The last thought—an internal promise from Zev's human to his wolf that the separation from Jonah's body was only temporary—was what Zev's body needed to soothe out the cramping that had taken over his intestines.  
Jonah lowered himself onto his backside and scooted against the wall. He kept his hand on the thick fur and petted the wolf that he'd seen on an almost daily basis for as long as he could remember. For the first time since that afternoon's debacle with Zev, Jonah felt calm. He'd had trouble falling asleep, still anxious about Zev's reaction to their encounter and Jonah's assertion that Zev was attracted to him. Even when he'd finally drifted into slumber, Jonah had tossed around restlessly, terrified that he'd driven away his best friend for good. But in that moment, sitting on the floor with his arms around the brown  
wolf, he felt better. There was something about the animal that tempered Jonah's worry and relaxed him from the inside out.  
Jonah sighed. His eyelids felt heavy and his body was worn out from the stressful day. So much so, that with the wolf's warm body pressed against his, Jonah succumbed to sleep without giving any thought as to why his cock had lengthened and hardened as soon as he'd embraced the creature.  
HE'D never rested so soundly, felt so complete and at peace. Jonah snuggled up against the soft, warm pillow and sighed happily. An answering rumble caused him to reassess the pillow theory. As sleep started clearing from his mind, Jonah became aware of the strong heartbeat close to his ear and the sound of someone else breathing. Zev. He sensed Zev.  
But the last time he'd seen his best friend they'd fought, so that didn't make sense. Jonah opened one eye and was greeted with an amber gaze. Except these amber eyes weren't attached to the body of the young man who'd played front and center in Jonah's every fantasy. They were attached to the brown wolf Jonah had known even longer. His arm was already wrapped around the large canine, so Jonah just moved his hand back and forth over the soft coat, petting his animal friend.  
"Morning, Pup. Anyone ever tell you that you make a great teddy bear?"  
Jonah laughed when the wolf growled. He actually looked affronted. Who knew that expression was possible for a dog?  
"Oh, Pup, did I offend you? Sorry, boy." Jonah squeezed the large animal into a tight hug. It felt so comforting, he didn't want to let go.  
"Jonah?"  
His father's voice outside his bedroom door forced Jonah to release his hold on the wild creature. The wolf rose to his feet and  
licked Jonah's neck. Then he walked over to the window and jumped out.  
"Coming, Dad."  
Jonah watched the wolf run across the yard and didn't notice his father enter the room. Just as the wolf reached the thick trees, Jonah heard a loud gasp. He turned to see his father standing right behind him, staring out the window, his eyes wide and his expression petrified.  
"Dad? Are you okay?"  
Kevin Marvel didn't respond to his son. His sudden loss of color and panting breath worried Jonah. He grasped his father's shoulders and shook him lightly, hoping to get his attention.  
"Dad! What's wrong?"  
Kevin swallowed hard a few times and shook his head. "Nothing. Must have been my imagination. Thought I saw a wolf."  
Jonah's father was allergic to dogs. It was why he'd never been allowed to have one as a pet. But he hadn't realized there was fear in addition to the allergy. He wondered if his father had been bitten as a child. He was about to ask his dad about the oddly intense reaction he'd just had, but Kevin spoke first.  
"I have breakfast ready. Come join me, Jonah. I have some good news I want to share with you."  
Well, that tone made for the least persuasive pitch of something good Jonah had ever heard. Was his father tense about the good news or was he still in the throes of his odd reaction to the wolf? Only one way to find out.  
"'kay. I'll be out in a sec."  
His father nodded and walked out of the room. Jonah pulled a T-shirt out of his drawer and slipped it over his head. Then he made a quick stop in the bathroom before walking out of his bedroom, down the hallway, through the family room, and into the kitchen, where his father was sitting at the table waiting for him.  
"What's up?" he asked as he reached for his glass of juice and lifted it to his mouth.  
"The hospital near the college had an open position. I applied and they offered me the job. That means I'll be able to sell the house and move with you."  
Jonah didn't know how to respond. He had a great relationship with his father, but the man had always been a bit overprotective. For the most part, Jonah didn't mind. The long-standing crush on his best friend meant Jonah hadn't ever wanted to sneak off with girls, and until yesterday, Jonah had never been brave enough to express his feelings for Zev. Good relationship or not, though, having your father follow you to college was just weird.  
"Look, I can tell you're concerned about this, but don't worry. I won't hold you back, son." Kevin Marvel reached his hand across the table and rested it on his son's cheek. "You're my only family, Jonah. I know you think you're all grown, but you'll always be my baby, and I want to keep you safe."  
How was he supposed to respond to that? Jonah had never known his mother. She'd died when he was a baby. His father had never dated again, devoting his life completely to his son. Sometimes Jonah felt it was too much pressure, but he loved his father and felt grateful for their close relationship.  
"Okay, Dad. I'm glad we'll be moving together. It'll be great."  
When he saw the tension leave his father's body and a smile grace his father's face, Jonah knew he'd said the right thing. He dug into his meal and tried to focus on how wonderful it would be to move to a new place, how much fun he'd have in college, how much he'd learn. Basically, Jonah tried to think about everything except the fact that with his father's move, there'd be no reason for him to return to Etzgadol. No reason for him to ever see Zev Hassick again, even if his friend was willing to spend time with him after the previous afternoon's fiasco. An ache deep in his chest told Jonah that if he didn't make up with his friend, he'd never be able to recover from the loss.


	6. tp

Chapter 1  
"Austin! Austin! Over here!" The  
deafening roars of his name sounded  
from every direction as he made his way  
up the theoretical red carpet of the  
Kodak Theater in sunny California. With  
a slight lift of his hand, he waved while  
inclining his head in the general  
direction of the screams without  
cracking a smile. Actually, Austin  
worked hard to keep his sneered frown  
from showing the disgust resonating  
deep inside his soul. Nothing more than  
the years of training had him extending a  
hand down to his date's lower back to  
gently guide her to the first interview  
stop along the way to the front doors.  
The sooner they made it through the line  
of national media, the closer he got to  
the end of this evening.  
The event's itinerary was set in stone.  
It was the same dog and pony show at  
every one of these award ceremonies.  
Austin had done this for years, too many  
years, and it never ever changed. There  
were several media stops all along the  
route to the front doors of the theater.  
Each one required them to step in a  
certain spot and pose prettily in what felt  
like an incredibly awkward position that  
somehow magically looked like a  
normal stance in the printed picture.  
Then the cameras blinded the eyes with  
thousands and thousands of flashes  
before they gave a meaningless,  
uninformative, random interview. Once  
all the ridiculous questions had been  
asked and answered, they did it over  
again until they made it inside the  
darkened front doors of the theater and  
out of the public's ever focused eye.  
Tonight Austin's date, who also  
played the critical role of his assistant  
and future wife, ate up the cameras. The  
pair of them were consider the "it"  
couple of the evening. A role they'd  
easily held for more years than he could  
count. No matter how angry or antisocial  
he became, they were the couple  
everyone wanted to interview and all the  
paparazzi stalked to photograph. She  
played her part with the grace and ease  
of a trained actress, readily  
overcompensating for his increasingly  
disagreeable disposition. Which  
technically was exactly what he paid her  
to do, but he let that thought slide by as  
they stepped up to their first interview.  
"Austin, Cara, good to see you again!  
Cara, you look lovely. Who are you  
wearing tonight?" Ryan Palmer of  
Entertainment Television started right  
in on them. They were only allotted two  
minutes at each interview and Ryan  
appeared to try to make the most of it by  
immediately hurling questions their way  
as the cameras panned into their faces.  
"I'm wearing Vera Wang tonight. She  
designed this especially for me. What do  
you think, do I look alright?" Cara linked  
her arm into Austin's turning her  
charming smile in Ryan's direction.  
"You look stunning, but that's nothing  
new," Ryan said with a good natured,  
size of Texas grin that he instantly toned  
down when he wasted no time and  
shoved the microphone into Austin's  
face.  
"This could be back to back Oscars  
for you tonight, Austin, which would put  
you in a category very few actors have  
ever achieved. How does that feel?"  
Ryan angled the microphone to catch  
Austin's response. Austin watched Ryan  
with a distant mild interest, not paying  
any attention to the question, but he  
almost cracked his first smile of the  
evening. Ryan stood five feet nothing  
tall, and compared to Austin's six foot  
two inch frame, he had to really lift the  
microphone to reach Austin's face. Out  
of nothing more than morbid curiosity,  
Austin cast his gaze down to see Ryan  
already stood on a step stool and was  
reaching up on his tip toes trying to make  
them appear closer in height.  
"I'm happy with the decision," Austin  
finally replied after an extended pause  
and gave in to the chuckle he'd been  
holding back. He hoped his response  
came close to answering the question he  
hadn't even tried to hear.  
"You still plan the extended  
sabbatical after tonight's ceremony?"  
Ryan asked.  
Austin focused on the way Ryan  
jerked his hand back and forth between  
their lips, trying to get all the questions  
in he could in the short interview. For  
some reason the movement tickled his  
funny bone and provided a bit of comic  
relief to his way past sick of all this,  
hardened heart.  
"Yes, I am," he said, again not giving  
anything back in his response while  
resisting the urge to lift his hand and  
mimic Ryan in the universal hand gesture  
of jacking off. It was in that moment,  
with all the fans surrounding him, all the  
movie stars taking shape on the red  
carpet and all the cameras capturing  
everything, when Austin realized that  
without question he'd made the right  
decision to leave the extreme celebrity  
world of Hollywood behind.  
This aired on National prime time  
television and he couldn't help but  
think about jacking off! Damn if this  
wasn't some major boring bullshit. If  
they just would come up with something  
new to ask, something relevant to  
anything happening in the world, but  
he'd answered all these same questions  
hundreds of times in the press circuits.  
Hell, a trained monkey could answer  
these questions. It was either lift his  
hand and pretend to jerk off, or make a  
gun out of his forefinger and thumb to  
shoot himself in the head. Both would be  
appropriate responses to this prick's  
questions.  
"I've heard some speculations on your  
impending departure, saying it's the  
wrong time, that it'll destroy your  
career. You're the favorite tonight and if  
you win, it'll be a clean sweep across  
the board. You'll have won every major  
best actor award given this year. Do you  
think it'll all still be here waiting for you  
when you come back?" Ryan quickly  
shoved the microphone back in his face.  
The question pissed Austin off. He  
didn't even do the moody contemplation  
he'd done for years. Instead, he raised  
an irritated eyebrow ready to tell Ryan  
exactly what he could do with the  
microphone.  
"Wrap it. We need to move on." Seth  
Walker, Austin's agent, came from out of  
nowhere and ended the interview.  
"Ryan, my honey here's giving me  
time to spread my wings in this acting  
world. We're so diverse in our  
investment holdings that Austin's going  
to run that show for a while, letting me  
free up and give it a go. He's truly one  
of the most special men alive. I'm lucky  
to have him." Cara cut in, clearly seeing  
the direction Austin planned to take the  
interview. She said it all with her sweet  
smile in place. He knew every dime he  
paid her was well worth the cost.  
"One last question: when are you two  
getting married?" The big Texas sized  
grin was back in place on Ryan's face.  
"You know the answer to that! When  
it's legal for everyone to marry,  
regardless of their sexual orientation,  
then we'll be the first in line at the  
altar," Cara said. With that, Seth  
whisked them away to the next stop. It  
was all very much like lather, rinse,  
repeat until they were almost to the front  
doors of the theater.  
Cara took over the interviews, staying  
on point, letting Austin center back into  
himself where he liked to be the most.  
He watched the last few steps to the  
theater's front doors much as an outsider  
looking in. A very unimpressed observer  
while Cara was regal in her role of arm  
candy at his side. She was long, blond  
and thin, matching him on every level.  
Her hair swept up in some classic updo,  
and her gown was long and flowed  
around her slender frame. She looked  
classically elegant and had the rare  
ability of looking at home and  
comfortable in this made up world of  
glitz and glamour. But maybe that was  
because she was at home here; she fit  
perfectly in this world.  
Now, at the end of his career, Austin  
was incredibly grateful he'd found her.  
No way could he have done any of this  
without her. He prayed he'd set her up  
for success when he left it all behind.  
She deserved to have everything she  
wanted, as long as she kept it all in  
perspective.  
"This way." A theater staff member  
held open a door leading them inside.  
Without a backward glance, Austin  
guided Cara inside and walked in after  
her, the doors closing behind them,  
effectively shutting out the noise and  
constant flash of the cameras. Relief  
coursed through his veins as he ignored  
the opulence of the theater's entry. This  
was it, his last time to ever go through  
this charade, because what the mini  
sabbatical really meant was an early  
retirement. One he couldn't wait to  
begin. T-minus eight hours and the  
chains of this excessive celebrity  
lifestyle would be forever broken. Good  
riddance!  
Friends in Low Places by Garth  
Brooks blared from an old jukebox in  
the only bar in a sixty mile radius of  
Cedarville, Texas. Kitt Kelly sat on his  
barstool, his well-worn boots anchored  
on the first rail of the stool, his cowboy  
hat pushed back on his head, and he took  
a deep swig from the longneck Bud Light  
he held in his hand. His pool stick rested  
between his legs and he watched his  
lifelong best friend, Jimmy Latham, walk  
the pool table calculating his next shot.  
"Kitt, you need another?" A dainty  
little waitress asked. In a small town  
everybody knew everybody, and he  
nodded at his little sister's best friend,  
handing over the now empty beer bottle.  
"One more, then that's it. I gotta get  
goin'," Kitt said in his cultured Texas  
accent.  
"Sure thing. I talked to Kylie today.  
It's a real good thing you did for her,  
Kitt."  
"Nah, it wasn't me. Kylie earned her  
way into that school and got a good  
scholarship to go with it all on her own.  
I didn't do anything." He cut his eyes  
back to the pool table hoping she'd pick  
up the subtle hint he didn't want any part  
of this conversation.  
"Whatever! She told me what you did  
and I totally wish you were my brother!  
I'll be right back with your beer." She  
turned on her heel and headed back to  
the bar, throwing the last comment over  
her shoulder.  
Kitt sat there quietly. He stared at the  
aging pool table and wondered how  
many people knew he'd sold a chunk of  
his daddy's land to pay for his sister's  
education. The idea anyone might know  
sure didn't sit well with him, and he  
suspected this tight knit community  
wouldn't appreciate him letting the  
highest bidder just come in and take up  
residence.  
That land had been in the Kelly family  
for a hundred and thirty years. Kitt  
certainly hadn't told a soul about what  
he did, but keeping secrets in a small  
town like this seemed to equal hiding an  
elephant in a sheep pin. Pretty much next  
to impossible. There was only one way  
to keep a secret: tell no one. He knew  
that rule for fact, and it looked like he  
needed to remind Kylie to keep things a  
little more quiet.  
"Kitt, come dance with me…"  
JoLynne Rogers slid her body between  
his parted thighs. She was one of the  
twenty five girls in his high school  
graduating class and he'd known her for  
most of his life.  
"I can't right now. I'm waitin' for  
Jimmy to fail at his last shot so I can win  
this game and collect my money," Kitt  
said loud enough for Jimmy to hear and  
casually wrapped an arm around her  
waist. She'd been drinking quite a bit  
and already swayed on her feet.  
"Jimmy, hurry up and lose! Kitt's the  
best dancer here. We need him on the  
dance floor!" JoLynne directed her  
whiny words toward Jimmy who was  
leaning awkwardly over the pool table.  
"He just thinks he has me. I found my  
shot, I'm comin' back. JoJo, just stay  
there and keep him occupied." Jimmy  
positioned himself for the perfect shot.  
He aimed, lined the ball up and shot.  
The ball hit just right of the pocket,  
knocking Kitt's last ball in. "Damn it!"  
"Yeah! Now come dance!" JoLynne  
pulled Kitt off the barstool. The waitress  
handed him a new beer as JoLynne  
tugged them out on the small dance floor  
with a slow moving Carrie Underwood  
song beginning to play.  
"I love this song! No matter how many  
times I hear it, I love it!"  
JoLynne came straight into his arms.  
She molded her body against his and  
began to move around the dance floor in  
a slow, tricked up two-step. Kitt never  
got a choice. He wrapped one arm  
around her thin waist and took a long  
drink of his new Bud Light before  
discarding it on a random table.  
"I'll be back for that," Kitt called out  
to the couple at the table. It freed him up  
to twist and turn her to the beat of the  
music. They danced well together and  
after a couple of faster songs they finally  
took it slower when Willy began to play.  
JoLynne came back into his arms all hot,  
sweaty, and still tipsy as hell. They were  
back to a simple two-step together. On  
the pass back around, Kitt grabbed his  
beer with a nod and took a long swig.  
He started to give JoLynne a drink, but  
stopped.  
"How're you gettin' home?" He eyed  
her close.  
"I'm not drivin', I'm here with Rae-  
Anne. But you know I'd go home with  
you if you asked." There wasn't even a  
blush at the words. He guessed they  
were too old now for hesitations and  
innuendos. The game was gone.  
Apparently they just said it plainly and  
just like every other time she'd asked,  
there was no way he would be going  
there with her. Instead of answering, he  
handed her his beer and she drained it  
down.  
"I'm guessin' that's a no, like usual.  
At some point Kitt Kelly, a hot guy like  
you's gonna need some in town lovin'.  
When that time comes, you promise to  
call me." She moved back into their  
dance embrace with her body molded  
against his. She spoke more in his ear,  
and her breath tinkled his neck as she  
rested her head against his shoulder.  
"JoLynne…"  
"I know, you don't shit where you eat.  
I heard it all from Jimmy, but just know  
there's a big Kitt Kelly fan club ready to  
step in and make you a fine wife for that  
big ole ranch you got out there. And you  
aren't gettin' any younger. Twentyeight's  
pretty old around these parts to  
never been married."  
"I know and you make it look like so  
much fun. When's divorce number two  
final?" Kitt shot back. He kept their feet  
moving together instinctively. JoLynne  
was still inappropriately pressed against  
him from head to toe and she grinned,  
gripping his ass when she answered.  
"Soon as he gives me the trailer and  
stops fightin' me on the flat screen. Until  
then, he can just keep payin' for it all  
and I'll keep livin' there without him  
anyways."  
"Hmm…" It was all Kitt said as he  
felt his phone vibrate at his belt. He  
anchored her slightly to his left, never  
stopping their steps around the dance  
floor as he palmed his phone to read the  
text. It was the one he'd been waiting for  
all night. With one hand he texted back a  
quick, 'I'm on my way.' and began to  
pry JoLynne off his body.  
"Honey, I gotta drive to Dallas  
tonight. I just got the call. Thanks for  
dancin' with me." He saw her wobble a  
little and turned his head to see if Rae-  
Anne was in any better condition to  
drive them home.  
"Kitt! Why're you leavin'! You never  
come into town anymore!" JoLynne  
stomped her foot as she spoke.  
"Sorry, babe, it's an emergency. I  
gotta roll. Tell Jimmy bye for me."  
He left the dance floor, texting Jimmy  
to make sure the two women got home  
safely. Kitt pulled out his wallet, paid  
his tab at the bar and strolled right out  
the front door without a backward  
glance. All of the sudden the night  
started looking up in a major way.  
It was at least a ninety minute drive to  
Dallas, but his fuck buddy got free after  
all and the lord knew he needed to get  
laid in the worst way possible. As he  
used the side step to his F250 pick-up  
truck, Kitt palmed his phone again to  
quickly text his ranch foreman, letting  
him know he would be back about midmorning  
and to begin the day without  
him. His truck was in gear and already  
pulling forward before he even got the  
door fully shut.  
Four hours into the awards ceremony  
and Austin was ready to hang himself.  
The never ending tears of acceptance  
speeches rang like a sledge hammer  
through his head giving him one hell of a  
splitting headache. At least at the other  
award shows they served alcohol to help  
take the edge off the tedious boredom  
and in your face egomaniacs. Seriously,  
the whole industry just thought too highly  
of themselves. In what world was it ever  
okay to have a room full of people sit for  
hours, stewing in their own greatness?  
All the while waiting to see if they won  
a trophy of a naked man with no dick…  
It was such a joke.  
Austin didn't have to worry about his  
appearance tonight. His hair was  
sculpted in place, designed not to move  
even in gale force winds. He didn't have  
to worry about the make-up either  
because much to his staff's regret, he'd  
refused to wear any tonight. Austin drew  
the line at make-up after he was spray  
tanned and clean shaven, and if he was  
willing to admit it, even waxed.  
To top it all off, Austin was brawny  
and built with muscle. The idea of  
wearing a form fitted tuxedo with a  
stupidly tight silk necktie that seriously  
limited his breathing by half was just  
plain crazy. Seating in this old building  
was impossible. These tiny seats had to  
have been made for children, not for  
grown ass men.  
Nearly an hour later the night finally  
began to wear down with only three  
awards left: Best Actor, Best Director  
and Best Movie. Austin was nominated  
for his role as a down on his luck guy  
who turned multi-millionaire, only to  
lose it all on a sick son he didn't know  
he had. He wasn't sure the simple, low  
budget role truly rang award worthy, yet  
the entire cast sat behind him. He could  
hear their giddy whispers buzz through  
the air, but he just wasn't emotionally in  
the same place with them.  
He felt like a caged animal begging to  
be set free.  
The Best Actor nominees were  
announced while scenes from their films  
were showed. It took several minutes to  
get through it all. The regulars were  
there: Clooney, Pitt, Penn. As Austin's  
name was read, the cast sitting behind  
him clapped a little louder throwing in a  
few whoops and hollers. Cara leaned in  
to whisper in his ear as the camera  
panned in on him.  
"Focus in, Austin. They're reading  
your name. It's almost over." She kissed  
his cheek. He smiled the smile he knew  
people loved and lifted his head to  
watch the clip of the movie. The actress  
giving the award, Meryl Streep, fanned  
herself after watching him cry by his  
dying son's hospital bed before she  
opened the envelop and grinned.  
"And the Oscar goes to… Austin  
Grainger!"  
He kept the smile on his face and  
stood up. Cara stood with him. It was  
like he was in robot mode. She kissed  
him lightly on the lips before he turned  
to have the young director hug him tight.  
"You deserve this, Austin." The  
director held him a moment longer in the  
tight embrace. Austin pulled back to see  
tears in the young man's eyes. He forced  
himself to turn, reminding his brain this  
meant so much to so many.  
Austin took the steps up to the stage as  
various well-wishers congratulated him  
along the way. Meryl stood waiting for  
him and handed him the trophy before  
hugging and kissing him on the cheek.  
She'd been one of his mentors from the  
very beginning when Austin had played  
her son in one of his very first roles.  
He accepted the award and hugged  
Meryl before turning to the audience  
who stood in a standing ovation still  
clapping wildly for him. By the fact that  
he couldn't even muster a serious  
emotion at winning this award and  
having his colleagues and peers cheer  
him on proved beyond any doubt he was  
more than just burned out.  
Austin was a man in hiding and past  
tired of it all. A stray thought occurred to  
him as he took a deep breath preparing  
to speak. He wondered if he would be  
standing here right now if anyone in this  
room knew the truth about him.  
"Thank you, Meryl. This is such an  
honor. I want to thank…" And then he  
started the long list of acknowledgments  
in the memorized acceptance speech  
he'd prepared. When he was done, they  
kept him back stage. It seemed the  
organizers finally clued in on just how  
late they ran.  
Next the winner of the Director's  
award was announced. Not surprising,  
his film's director won. Then  
immediately following they won the  
award for Best Picture, requiring the  
entire crew go up on stage. Austin stood  
in the back, letting everyone else  
involved in the film have their moment.  
"This is it for you. You're ending your  
career, leaving it all behind. I  
understand you're taking off right after  
this interview?" Katie Seymour of Good  
Morning America asked. They sat  
together in the back of the cleared out  
Kodak Theater. It was four in the  
morning and Austin had done the entire  
press circuit just like his contract  
required him to do.  
"Yes. I'm done, this is it for me. It's  
time to get back to the basics." Austin  
sat perched on his director's style chair  
gently bouncing his leg. He was antsy to  
be done, counting the minutes until he  
never ever in his life had to do this  
again.  
"It's hard being this famous? Maybe  
not cracked up to what everyone thinks it  
is?"  
"It's hard when you can't leave your  
house without the constant flash of  
cameras following you everywhere you  
go." Austin nodded as he spoke. "I love  
so many parts of all this. The  
professionals I've met along the way,  
and my fans, but the media's become too  
tough, too aggressive. It's no kind of  
life."  
"What about the rumors? Are any of  
those hard to deal with, Austin?" Katie  
leaned forward, getting more serious as  
she spoke, but he didn't bite. He leaned  
back and became more casual as he sat  
there.  
"Nah, not at all, I don't listen to any of  
that mess." Austin forced his leg to still  
and put his game face on as he answered  
that question. He was an award winning  
actor; surely he could pull off passive.  
"None?" she persisted.  
"No, not any. I won't let anyone tell  
me about them either. I stay away from  
all that. The gossip, the made-up stories,  
reviews… I don't pay attention to any of  
it," Austin replied.  
"So there's no chance I can ask you  
about some of them now or the constant  
speculation on your sexuality." The way  
she said it, it was a question as well as a  
statement.  
"No, I don't address any of it." It was  
the absolute truth.  
"It's four in the morning here in  
California, but seven in New York.  
You've been so gracious to stay up and  
talk to us. Thank you so much and we  
wish you well on your future endeavors,  
but I have to say that you will be missed.  
And I for one will be looking forward to  
your return."  
Austin stayed quiet letting the anchor  
finish while the screen went black  
before he stood up.  
Katie got up to shake his hand. "Good  
luck."  
Austin's tie hung open around his  
neck, along with the first few buttons on  
his dress shirt. He held his Oscar in his  
hand as they expected him to do. His  
agent stood off to the side like he'd done  
most of the night. Now he came forward  
to take the trophy. "Thank you for  
signing all those photos. My nieces will  
love them."  
"Anytime," Austin said as he tried to  
distance himself from the situation by  
taking a couple of steps backward  
toward the dressing rooms.  
"Good luck! You deserve to find that  
peace you're looking for," Katie called  
after him. Her gaze never left his. But  
Katie was gay. She got it, and it was  
clear in her eyes.  
"Thank you," he muttered with a nod.  
The sentiment felt sincere, so sincere it  
caught him off guard, but he turned away,  
his legs eating up the distance to the  
dressing room he'd been assigned for the  
night. Seth's legs worked double time to  
stay caught up with him.  
"Austin, a car's waiting to take you to  
the airport." They walked briskly, now  
side by side as he shrugged off his jacket  
handing it over to his agent.  
"Where's Cara?" Austin loosened the  
cuff links on his shirt as he entered the  
small room.  
"She's at one of the parties." Seth  
reached for the shirt before it hit the  
floor.  
"Is she being watched?" Austin asked.  
He dropped his slacks, looking Seth  
directly in the eye.  
"Yep," Seth said. "She's got a couple  
of guards on her. I'll go there when  
we're done."  
Austin didn't say anything more.  
Instead he turned to dig through the small  
backpack for his jeans. As good as Cara  
was at putting on airs in this fake world  
of Hollywood, she had also entrenched  
herself deeply in its culture. Up until  
recently, she'd always been discreet  
with her partying, but lately things had  
changed. Her drug and alcohol use was  
spiraling out of control. Her bed  
partners were changing weekly, causing  
a new cast of characters to constantly  
filter through their lives. It was risky and  
the leaks were starting to fill the  
tabloids. They were watched too closely  
for it to not be noticed.  
Austin's game plan was to get her  
acting in the majors. She wasn't ready  
for the big roles, but she could handle  
the romantic comedies, no problem.  
Austin called in favors signing her on to  
several back to back films. He was  
hoping it might push her back to getting  
control over some of her wayward  
ways. Seth agreed to be her agent. He'd  
watch her, keep her focused and on task.  
"Stay with her all the time and let me  
know if I need to get involved. I'm  
hoping it calms when she gets on set and  
I get gone," Austin said shrugging his  
jeans up over his hips.  
"You know I will." Seth nodded  
keeping it brief. He didn't agree with  
Austin taking off like this, they'd been  
over it so many times, but Seth never  
could sway Austin from his course.  
Austin needed this too badly to let  
anything stand in his way.  
Austin tugged on his t-shirt while  
walking out the back doors of the studio  
to his waiting car. For the first time in  
ten years the clothes he wore were his  
choice, not from the collection of the  
highest bidding designer who paid him  
to wear their clothes any time a camera  
might be around. It felt good to wear a  
pair of Wranglers and a vintage MTV tshirt  
he had from before he ever got  
started acting.  
The back door of the Kodak Theater  
opened to a parking lot. A chain link  
fence surrounded the lot where about a  
hundred fans stood behind security  
waiting for him. Austin took the rare  
minute and went over to the fence. These  
times were too few anymore when he  
just got to be one on one with his fans.  
Austin stayed signing every last  
autograph. He spoke quietly with each  
fan. Seth and his bodyguards stood close  
by waiting for him, but no one rushed  
him. They let him have this moment.  
When he got through it all, he slid in the  
backseat of his car. He watched the  
crowd as he pulled away and gave a  
wave. Without question, Austin knew  
this would be the only thing he missed in  
leaving Hollywood behind.


	7. tp2

Chapter 2  
A vibration jarred Kitt awake and it  
took him a second to acclimate to his  
surroundings. White and black chrome  
took shape as he opened his eyes, not the  
polished finish of his hand built log  
cabin back on the farm. The bed felt  
about the same – or maybe not… Kitt  
had just spent lots of time in this bed  
over the last few years; maybe that's  
why it felt like home.  
Kitt turned his head to look over at the  
nightstand. The alarm clock read a  
quarter after six in the morning. He was  
alone in bed so he took the minute to  
stretch his long body out. A smile came  
to his lips at the rolling ache in his sore  
muscles after hours of deeply gratifying  
marathon style sex he'd shared with his  
super hot bed partner. Sean knew him  
well and easily manipulated him with all  
the right moves. Sean also loved to  
bottom letting Kitt bend, torture and  
dominate him in every way.  
"Good morning. I knew you would  
want to get on the road. I made coffee  
and a bagel wrapped and ready to go."  
Sean came through the bedroom door  
carrying two cups of steaming hot  
coffee. Kitt scooted up on the bed,  
leaning against the headboard to take the  
cup, not quite ready to give up of the  
comfort of the moment. Sean sat on the  
end of the bed, tucking one of his long  
legs underneath him. He was tall, dark  
and exceedingly handsome. There had to  
be some Spanish or Mediterranean deep  
his ancestry. Over all these years Kitt  
had never asked about it but saw it so  
clearly in the deep dark chocolate brown  
eyes and olive complexion. Sean also  
had a thick brush of long eyelashes  
sweeping up and down every time he  
blinked. Kitt could feel his arousal stir  
to life just looking at the man.  
"You were incredible last night, Kitt.  
I'm glad you finally got the time to come  
up and see me," Sean said before taking  
a sip of his coffee.  
"I've been busy. I needed it though.  
Thanks for fittin' me in." He gave a  
small kick in Sean's direction and  
brushed a hand through his light brown  
hair.  
"You've been spending time in the sun  
with no sunscreen, Kitt. I keep telling  
you it's bad for your skin. You need to  
spray tan, it's healthier and everyone's  
doing it." Sean eyed Kitt closely. "The  
sun's changed your hair color, I like the  
gold and auburn highlights. It's longer  
than I've ever seen you wear it… I like  
this new look, but you need sunscreen!"  
Sean scooted closer to Kitt as he spoke.  
He laid his coffee on the night stand.  
They had been in this relationship for the  
past five or six years, ever since they  
met when Kitt was on spring break from  
Grad school, floating the river in New  
Braunfels.  
"I need to take the time to get it cut.  
It's in the way." Kitt let Sean take his  
cup, and watched him sweep a hand  
down Kitt's chest. Sean lowered the  
sheet covering his half aroused cock.  
"I think you need one for the road.  
Maybe it'll entice you back to my bed  
sooner. You know you're my favorite  
bed partner. No one's built like you. I  
guess it's just that home grown, corn fed  
thing I keep hearing about with you farm  
boys." Sean took Kitt's dick in his hand,  
skillfully bringing it fully back to life.  
"Hmm…" Kitt sucked his breath in at  
the feel of Sean's hands moving on him.  
"We went all night. I can't believe you  
want more." He rolled his hips forward,  
his cock begging for Sean's tongue.  
"I always want you, Kitt. I never turn  
you down. Besides, all these committed  
relationships and marriage fighters are  
really putting a damper on the available  
men out there," Sean said reaching in to  
slant his mouth over Kitt's. He opened  
immediately for Sean's sensual assault,  
snaking his hands up Sean's back to pull  
him against his chest.  
It became a battle of tongues as Kitt  
reached his hands low sliding them in  
the waistband of Sean's workout shorts.  
As he'd expected there was no  
underwear in the way, just Sean, hard  
and ready. Sean tore from the kiss,  
licking and nibbling his way to softly  
whisper in Kitt's ear. "Let me suck you  
just the way you like it before you go.  
Something to remember me by."  
Sean pulled away, looking Kitt in the  
eyes. "Come in my mouth... Don't push  
me away. I know you're clean and I love  
your taste. No one tastes like you."  
He didn't wait for an answer but  
trailed kisses down Kitt's chest, taking  
special care around each nipple. He  
worked his tongue slowly licking over  
each defined abdominal muscle in Kitt's  
stomach. God, how Kitt loved that  
move! He tightened his grip in Sean's  
thick, silky black hair, and pushed him  
lower. The chuckling coming from  
below had Kitt again rolling his hips  
forward as his dick was lifted to  
position. Sean placed a simple, firm kiss  
on his broad head and then slid Kitt's  
hard as steel cock deep into his mouth.  
Sean had a way with blow jobs. He  
rolled his tongue around Kitt's dick,  
sucking him in deeply until he hit the  
back of Sean's throat. The gentle scrape  
of teeth, along with a swirl of his tongue  
caused Kitt to buck his hips forward, to  
thrust himself deeper inside Sean's  
mouth. Sean never failed to take him as  
far as he needed to go, deep throating  
him time and time again.  
It didn't take long before Kitt's spine  
began to tingle. He bucked his hips now  
in earnest as he fucked Sean's mouth.  
Kitt rolled his head back, exhaling  
sharply. He tightened his hold on Sean's  
hair, keeping it right there as Kitt fucked  
him hard with his hips. Kitt's heart  
pounded when wave after wave of hot,  
creamy release exploded from his body.  
True to Sean's word, he drank it all  
down, never pulling away from the deep  
thrusting Kitt continued to make until  
there was nothing left but the sated  
feelings taking over his body.  
Sean stayed on him. He cleaned Kitt's  
cock with his tongue before releasing  
him to kiss his way back up Kitt's chest.  
Kitt slid his hand up to cover his nipple  
as Sean's tongue tried to slide across it.  
Every nerve ending in his body was in  
overload and his nipples were just too  
sensitive to allow Sean to suck on them  
like he liked to do after sex. Another one  
of those sexy chuckles sounded off as  
Sean rose from the bed. Kitt opened one  
eye and watched Sean walk across the  
bedroom, dropping his workout shorts as  
he went.  
"I have work this morning and you  
need to get back on the road or so you  
told me several times last night."  
Kitt watched the enticingly hot bubble  
butt bounce back and forth as Sean  
strutted into his closet. It took Kitt a  
minute longer to finally look over at the  
clock to see it was already a quarter to  
seven, fifteen minutes later than he'd  
intended to leave. Kitt forced his sated  
body to move. He took a moment, just  
placing both feet on the plush rug before  
he pushed himself up, relieved when he  
stayed on his feet. The ache from earlier  
made itself known. His thighs hurt from  
the hours of thrusting he'd done and his  
arms were sore from holding Sean's ass  
and legs just the way he wanted them.  
The best part though, his ass hurt. He'd  
been used pretty solidly last night which  
was a little different for him and Sean.  
Kitt moved his sore limbs across the  
room to a chair where his clothes were  
discarded last night. Sean was a clean  
freak and even as the clothes were torn  
away, he always took the minute to fold  
them neatly on the chair. Everything had  
a place in Sean's life and Kitt wondered  
about the workout shorts still lying in the  
middle of the floor. Kitt assumed he left  
them there to prove he could, but it had  
to be eating Sean up inside.  
Kitt decided to give Sean a break and  
picked up the shorts, casually folding  
them before dropping them on the  
dresser where the television sat. He  
turned the TV on, hoping to catch a few  
minutes of local news to get an idea on  
the traffic this morning.  
All Kitt had was the clothes he wore  
last night and he began to dress, pulling  
on his plaid button down with one eye  
focused on the television as Sean  
reappeared from the closet wearing dark  
slacks, a crisp white dress shirt, a  
crimson silk tie hanging around his  
shoulders, and some sort of matching  
expensive looking loafers. His sexy fuck  
buddy was hot as hell, and tying his tie  
as he spoke.  
"You know him, don't you?" Sean  
nodded toward the television. It took  
Kitt a second to focus his eyes back on  
the screen and not leer at the overly  
handsome man stepping from the closet.  
"Yep, well, no. Austin Grainger went  
to my high school. He's three or four  
years older than me. I wouldn't say I  
know him." Kitt was now fully focused  
on the sexiest man alive. Literally, per  
People Magazine.  
"They say he likes the boys. Did he  
like you back then? Maybe you shared  
some of this tight ass of yours with him  
in that Ag barn you're so proud of?"  
Sean patted Kitt's ass as he walked by.  
"Nah, I don't think he's gay. He dated  
the head cheerleader back then. They got  
caught on my dad's land together." Kitt's  
eyes stayed glued to the television  
screen.  
"Doesn't mean he doesn't like a guy  
now and then." Sean looked at himself in  
the dresser mirror as he adjusted his tie  
before placing the cuff links to his  
wrists.  
"Maybe, but I don't think so. I never  
saw it," Kitt said and stepped closer to  
the TV.  
Austin had aged well and was still hot  
as ever. There weren't too many men  
better looking than Sean, but Austin  
easily ranked higher. When Kitt was a  
teenager, no other person on the planet  
starred in his daydreams as frequently as  
Austin Grainger. At fifteen years old  
he'd woken plenty of mornings all sticky  
wet after dreaming some of the most  
erotic dreams a boy could have and they  
all centered on Austin.  
"You know, I was thinking with all  
this talk of commitment and marriage...  
We aren't getting any younger, you and  
I," Sean said as he watched Kitt from his  
dresser's mirror.  
Kitt glanced up, but quickly turned his  
eyes back down at the screen.  
"Whatever, you're the old man out of the  
two of us. I'm still in my twenties."  
Kitt sat down on the side of the bed to  
slide on his socks and boots. Whatever  
show Austin was on had finished airing,  
freeing Kitt from watching the screen,  
and he looked back up at Sean.  
Something serious crossed his face, a  
point he was trying to make and Kitt  
thought fast to remember what they were  
talking about.  
"…and I sure like the way you fuck.  
Clearly I do. I've known you for seven  
years and I only have to see your text  
and I start backing out of whatever I've  
got going on. Maybe we should consider  
making this more permanent." Sean  
finally turned toward him, leaning back  
against the dresser and stared at Kitt.  
"You don't have to cancel plans for  
me. Just tell me when's good." Kitt  
tugged hard at the leather loops at the top  
of his boot until his heel slid inside.  
"You're missing my point, Kitt. Let  
me try again, there's a bigger picture  
here. While you were buried deep inside  
my ass last night, I realized how much I  
like you there. I'm thirty five, not a kid  
anymore. Perhaps it's time I settle  
down… with you."  
The words stopped Kitt cold while he  
pushed the tails of his shirt into his blue  
jeans. He looked up at Sean with  
surprise evident on his face. Never, did  
he ever think Sean would say something  
like this. Sean was a stereotypical gay  
man. Stockbroker by day, man whore by  
night. Kitt narrowed his eyes and  
watched him closely, wondering if he  
could have interpreted the words  
incorrectly. Sean chose then to leave his  
spot by the dresser to come to Kitt. He  
wrapped his arms around Kitt and  
tucked his shirt in from the back.  
"I see you're as surprised by my  
suggestion as I am. It's not such a crazy  
idea if you think about it. You're about  
the hottest guy I've ever seen. I've told  
you over and over you're like a smoke  
free version of the Marlboro man." Sean  
stopped speaking and looked up at Kitt's  
face while wrapping his arms tighter  
around Kitt as he tugged them closer  
together.  
"I can see by the look in your eyes you  
never believe me… Kitt, it's time for  
you to think better of yourself. You're  
gorgeous, babe. You've got a strong  
jaw, high cheek bones, sexy full lips and  
that slightly crooked nose turns my shit  
on. You rock these Wranglers like they  
were made just for your body, but I  
digress… Say you'll think about it."  
Sean slid his hands along Kitt's arms  
hanging loosely at his sides and  
wrapped them around his waist in the  
same manner he held Kitt.  
They were about the same height,  
about the same build; muscular, but not  
too bulky. It felt right to hold Sean,  
especially when he lowered his hands  
down on Kitt's ass, tugging their hips  
tighter together. Kitt could feel Sean  
grow harder as he spoke, and the  
realization hit him: this conversation  
turned Sean on. He was serious.  
"What about the problem of the hour  
and a half between our houses? I can't  
come up here much more than I already  
do." Kitt was shocked at his own words.  
Was he really considering it?  
"You could let me come to you."  
Sean's stare never faltered.  
"Sean…" The thought made Kitt  
cringe. Secrets only held when nothing  
broke through the carefully planned lies.  
"No, I see that look in your eyes. I  
could be discreet for a while. Keep it  
hidden while we decide if it's working,"  
Sean said.  
"Yeah, no... You don't have a discreet  
bone in your body." Kitt laughed at the  
thought. "No way. It's impossible, Sean.  
You drive a Fisker. You look like a  
male model! You draw attention like  
honey draws flies, and you do it on  
purpose."  
Sean completely ignored him holding  
him in place as Kitt tried to pull free.  
"I was thinking if you came up here  
once a week and I came to you once a  
week, we could make it work until one  
of us gives and moves to the other."  
Okay, well that sentence just proved  
to Kitt this was more than a spur of the  
moment thought, and way more than just  
bumping up the regularity of their sex  
partnership. Sean had to have been  
thinking about this for a while. It left Kitt  
with no words.  
Every part of the conversation was  
completely unexpected and just grew  
crazier by the second. Kitt would never  
give the farm up and no way would Sean  
fit in down in his world. Besides, there  
was a much bigger issue. Kitt had never  
considered long term with Sean. Hell,  
he'd never thought in long term about  
anyone. He was a confirmed bachelor  
for life. He knew his plight, owned it,  
and planned to live just like this forever.  
It was the exact reason he thought he and  
Sean were such a perfect match.  
"Kitt, just think about it. I know I'm  
your only partner. It's obvious, and with  
a little more regularity you could be  
mine. I love having sex with you, that's  
all I'm saying. I'll give you a few days  
but promise me you'll think about. And I  
will be discreet. I can buy one of those  
big pickup trucks to drive down and see  
you in." Sean finally pulled away from  
Kitt handing him his wallet and cowboy  
hat that were still on the chair before  
walking back across the room to the  
closet to grab a suit jacket.  
"I have an appointment this morning.  
You could stay, but I know you would  
rather get on the road."  
Sean never said another word about  
commitments or long term relationships  
as they left his apartment. They rode the  
elevator down the high rise to the  
underground garage. Kitt had parked his  
truck next to Sean's shiny, new Fisker  
sports car when he arrived last night. He  
went directly to it and Sean followed  
behind him, not going to his car like he  
usually did when they left together.  
"I love watching you back this  
massive vehicle into this small space. It  
reminds me of us having sex." Sean  
chuckled and pushed Kitt against the  
side of the truck. He was bold this  
morning, leaning into Kitt for all his  
neighbors to see. These public displays  
weren't something Kitt did and he never  
got used to it when Sean made the move.  
It was hard to hide when you were so  
public with what you were doing. He  
couldn't help but cut his eyes around to  
see who might be watching. Sean  
gripped his jaw flipping his head back to  
look at only him.  
"It's okay to be gay, Kitt. I don't know  
why you won't just go with what's  
natural for you. Think about what I said.  
We connect well together and you'd be  
good on my arm. I'm getting a promotion  
to Senior Vice President. You wouldn't  
have to work yourself into an early  
grave out there, trying to make your  
dad's place what it once was a hundred  
years ago. Promise me you'll think about  
it." Sean leaned in and placed his lips on  
Kitt's for a quick chaste kiss before he  
turned and walked away. "Now drive  
away in that big ass truck. I love to  
watch you go."  
Kitt didn't say a word. He clicked the  
key remote to unlock the doors before he  
used the side step to lift himself inside  
the driver's seat. He was still  
completely shocked at the turn of events  
between them. Kitt searched his frantic  
brain, but couldn't figure out what  
happened in their night to cause Sean to  
think in terms of exclusivity – with him.  
It wasn't just that, because hell, Kitt  
already was exclusive to Sean. He lived  
out in the country. Three thousand  
people lived in a sixty square mile  
radius of the farm, and as best he could  
tell, not one of them was a gay man.  
Hell, if there was someone, he'd be  
finding a way to fuck them along with  
Sean.  
"Exclusive… Damn it," Kitt muttered  
driving from the underground garage.  
This was going to fuck their relationship  
up. Kitt didn't want an obligation and he  
sure didn't want to explain Sean's  
presence to anyone down on the farm. It  
had taken him a long time to earn the  
respect of his ranch hands after his  
father's sudden heart attack. He'd just  
now proved he could run the place. That  
everything he'd learned in college, the  
progressive way of farming and ranching  
could work better than his dad's old  
school ways. If his employees learned  
the truth about whose bed his boots had  
been under… Yeah, no way! Kitt knew  
he could never come out in the  
Agriculture world. The heavy hitters of  
the industry were packed with rednecks  
and homophobes. No way could he ever  
come out.  
Kitt pushed, no shoved, Sean's idea  
out of his mind. He decided he would  
deal with it later. If he needed to find a  
new fuck buddy, fine, he would. Dallas  
was full of gay men. Maybe switching to  
Houston or Austin might produce better  
results. It could give him a good change  
of pace. Proximity wise, they were  
further away from the farm. Even less  
chance of him getting caught. Surely he  
still had connections close to Houston.  
His alma mater was only about an hour  
away from there. Besides, even with  
everything else against them,  
relationships required a time  
commitment to be successful, and time  
wasn't something Kitt had to spare right  
now.  
Kitt easily navigated his oversized  
pick-up through the crowded downtown  
streets of Dallas, not letting himself  
consider Sean's proposal any more – his  
mind was made. He'd find a way to tell  
Sean no and keep them going just like  
they had been or end it all together. His  
hip vibrated. It reminded Kitt he'd  
silenced the phone the previous night.  
He palmed it at a stop light. It wasn't  
anyone on the farm like he thought, but  
Sean.  
'I know you better than anyone does.  
We've been together too long. We can  
make it work. I'm willing to stay hidden  
for a while and having sex with you a  
couple of times a week will hold me  
over, I'm sure. I love our sex... sucking  
you, swallowing you… Don't deny us.  
I'll keep things like we have them for  
now, but I'll be working my way in that  
direction. You're suddenly very  
important to me. Actually Kitt, you  
have been for some time now, I've just  
kept it quiet.'  
Kitt didn't respond but scanned the  
message a couple of times until the stop  
light turned green. He turned up the  
volume on the radio and tossed the  
phone in the cup holder it usually rested  
in. One thing he knew without question,  
he didn't have time for all this right now.  
If Sean was willing to give him time,  
he'd take it and pray Sean changed his  
mind. Kitt liked their sex too, always  
had, but no way was he ready for any  
sort of relationship. That wasn't going to  
change, not for anyone.  
As he wound his way through the  
extreme downtown traffic, Kitt forced  
his thoughts away from Sean to focus on  
monumentally more important things.  
Like his new colt. Or rather on the  
prospect of his new colt. Kitt had taken  
out loans and invested in four registered  
mares. Over the next few weeks the first  
of four artificially inseminated Quarter  
Horses would give birth on the farm. His  
father had only run cattle on the ranch,  
but Kitt took a chance. All four mares  
had been successfully impregnated and  
were stabled on the farm right now. If  
things worked out like he hoped, their  
newborn foals could easily sell for  
thousands and thousands of dollars,  
changing everything for him, his  
stepmom and two little sisters.  
Kitt was feeling on much more solid  
ground mentally. No, personal  
relationships meant very little to him  
right now. He was standing on the edge.  
He needed to stay focused and on target.  
One wrong move could ruin everything.  
The sounds of the Kidd Kraddick  
Morning show filled his mind and he  
ignored everything as he hit Interstate 20  
to make the long drive home.


End file.
